APPLETOXS'  POPULAE  LIBEARY 

.    OF  THE  BEST  AUTHORS. 


THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 


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/ 


YELLOWPLU 


«»■         I 


BY 


WILLIAM  M.  THACKERAY, 

AUTHOE  OF  "the  FABIS  SKETCH-BOOK,"  "VANITY  FAIB,"  " PEKDENNIS,"  VtO. 


NEW-YORK : 
D.  APPLETON  &  COMPANY,  200  BPvOADWAY. 

M.DCCC.Lni. 


i2/ 


/f 


/'r// 


PUBLISHER'S  ADYERTISEMEXT. 

The  Yellowplush  Papers,  a  work  at  the 
foundation  of  Mr.  Thackeray's  fame  as  a  writer, 
appeared  in  a  London  edition  in  18-il,  collected 
from  the  pages  of  Fraser^s  Magazine,  and  edited 
by  Mr.  Michael  Angelo  Titmarsh,  the  authors 
well-known  nom  de  jplume.  An  imperfect  collec- 
tion, long  since  out  of  print,  had  previously  been 
published  in  Philadelphia. 

It  is  now  revived,  in  connection  with  a  number 
of  the  author's  miscellaneous  writings,  which  will 
appear  in  due  succession,  for  its  speciality  of 
thousrht  and  character,  and  its  exhibition  of  those 
fruitful  germs  of  sentiment  and  observation  which 
have  expanded  into  the  pictures  of  modern  society, 
read  throughout  the  world  in  the  pages  of  ''  Van- 
ity Fair"  and  '•  Pendennis."  In  its  peculiar  line 
the  "  Yellowplush  Papers"  have  never  been  sur- 
passed. The  character  is  well  preserved,  and 
unique  as  the  spelling,  which  shows  that  there  is 
a  genius  even  for  cacography,  and  a  sentiment,  as 
well  as  a  hearty  laugh  in  a  wrong  combination  of 
letters.     It  is  impossible  to  resist  the  infelicities 


iv.ia7.S()tJ4 


publisher's  advertisement. 


of  Mr.  Yellowplush.  His  humour,  too,  is  a  pretty 
serious  test  of  tlie  ways  of  the  world,  and  profit  as 
well  as  amusement  may  be  got  from  his  Epistles, 
justifying  the  remark  of  an  English  critic,  that 
"  notwithstanding  the  bad  spelling  and  mustard- 
coloured  unmentionables  of  Mr.  Yellowplush,  he 
is  fifty  times  more  of  a  gentleman  than  most  of 
his  masters." 


yEW-YoEK,  March,  1852. 


CONTENTS. 


IGB. 

MISS  snrM's  htsbaxd 9 

THE   AilOUES   OF  ME.   DEUCE  ACE   .  .'  .  .  35 

SEIMMTN'GS   FEOM    "  THE  DAIET   OF   GEOEGE  lY."         .  57 

FOEIXG  PAETS T-i 

ME.    DEAtrCEACE   AT   PAEIS  ....  88 

ME.   TELLOWPLTJSh's   A  JEW  .  .  .  .  1T7 

EPISTLES   TO   THE  LITEEATI        .  .  .  .  ,193 


PAPEES  BY  ME.  YELLOWPLUSH, 


SOMZETTMDE 


FOOTMAJ^"  IN"  MANY  GENTEEL  FAiMILIES. 


I. 
MISS  SHUM'S  HUSBAND. 

CHAPTER  I. 

I  WAS  bom  in  the  year  one,  of  the  present  or  Christian 
hera,  and  am,  in  consquints,  seven-and-thirty  years  old. 
My  mamma  called  me  Charles  Edward  Harrington 
Fitzroy  Yellowplush,  in  compliment  to  several  noble  fa- 
milies, and  to  a  sellybrated  coachmin  whom  she  knew, 
who  wore  a  yellow  hvry,  and  drove  the  Lord  Mayor  of 
London. 

Why  she  gev  me  this  genlmn's  name  is  a  diffiklty, 
or  rayther  the  name  of  a  part  of  his  dress ;  however, 
it's  stuck  to  me  through  hfe,  in  which  I  was,  as  it  were, 
a  footman  by  buth. 

Praps  he  was  my  father — though  on  this  subjict  I 
can't  speak  suttinly,  for  my  ma  wrapped  up  my  buth 
in  a  mistry.  I  may  be  illygitmit,  I  may  have  been 
changed  at  nuss ;  but  I've  always  had  genlmniy  tastes 


10  THE    YELLOWPLUSrI    PAPERS. 

tlirougli  life,  and  have  no  doubt  that  I  come  of  a  genl- 
mnly  origiim. 

The  less  I  say  about  my  parint  the  better,  for  the 
dear  old  creature  was  very  good  to  me,  and,  I  fear,  had 
very  little  other  goodness  in  her.  Why,  I  can't  say ; 
but  I  always  passed  as  her  nevyou.  We  led  a  strange 
life ;  sometimes  ma  was  dressed  in  sattn  and  rooge,  and 
sometimes  in  rags  and  dutt;  sometimes  I  got  kisses, 
and  sometimes  kix ;  sometimes  gin,  and  sometimes 
shampang ;  law  bless  us  !  how  she  used  to  swear  at 
me,  and  cuddle  me  ;  there  we  were,  quarrelhng  and 
making  up,  sober  and  tipsy,  starving  and  gutthng  by 
turns,  just  as  ma  got  money  or  spent  it.  But  let  me 
draw  a  vail  over  the  seen,  and  speak  of  her  no  more — 
Its  'sfishant  for  the  public  to  know,  that  her  name  was 
Aliss  Montmorency,  and  we  lived  in  the  New  Cut. 

My  poor  mother  died  one  morning,  Hev'n  bless  her  ! 
And  I  was  left  alone  in  this  mde  wicked  wuld,  without 
so  much  money  as  would  buy  me  a  penny  roal  for  my 
brexfast.  But  there  was  some  amongst  our  naybours 
(and  let  me  tell  you  there's  more  kindness  among  them 
poor  disreppytable  creaturs  than  in  half-a-dozen  lords 
or  barrynets)  who  took  pity  upon  poor  Sal's  orfin  (for 
they  bust  out  laffin  when  I  called  her  Miss  Montmor- 
ency), and  gev  me  bred  and  shelter.  I'm  afraid,  in 
spite  of  their  kindness,  that  my  morrils  wouldn't  have 
improved  if  I'd  stayed  long  among  'em.  But  a  benny- 
dolent  genlmn  saw  me,  and  put  me  to  school.  The 
academy  which  I  went  to  was  called  the  Free  School  of 
Saint  Bartholomew's  the  Less — the  young  genlmn  wore 
green  baize  coats,  yellow  leatlier  whatsisnames,  a  tin 
jtlate  on  the  left  harm,  and  a  cap  about  the  size  of.  a 


MISS  shum's  husband.  11 


muffing.  I  stayed  there  sicks  years,  from  sicks,  that  is 
to  say,  till  my  twelth  year,  during  three  years  of  witch, 
I  distinguished  myself  not  a  Httle  in  the  musicle  way, 
for  I  bloo  the  bellus  of  the  church  horgin,  and  very  fin  p. 
tunes  we  played  too. 

Well,  it's  not  worth  recounting  my  jewvenile  foUies 
(what  trix  we  used  to  play  the  applewoman  !  and  how 
we  put  snuff  in  the  old  dark's  Prayer-book — my  eye  !) ; 
but  one  day,  a  genlmn  entered  the  school-room — it  was 
on  the  very  day  when  I  went  to  subtraxion — and  asked 
the  master  for  a  young  lad  for  a  servant.  They  pitched 
upon  me  glad  enough  ;  and  nex  day  found  me  sleeping 
in  the  skullerv,  close  under  the  sink,  at  Mr.  Bao-o's 
country-house  at  PentonwiUe. 

Bago  kep  a  shop  in  Smithfield  market,  and  drov  a 
taring:  sfood  trade,  in  the  hoil  and  Itahan  wav.  Tve 
heard  him  say,  that  he  cleared  no  less  than  fifty  pounds 
every  year,  by  letting  his  front  room  at  hanging  time. 
His  winders  looked  right  opsit  Xewgit,  and  many  and 
many  dozen  chaps  has  he  seen  hanging  there.  Laws 
was  laws  in  the  year  ten,  and  they  screwed  chap's  nex 
for  nex  to  nothink.  But  my  bisniss  was  at  his  coun- 
try-house, where  I  made  my  first  ontray  into  fashnabl 
life.  I  was  knife,  errint,  and  stable-boy  then,  and  an't 
ashamed  to  own  it ;  for  my  merrits  have  raised  me  to 
what  I  am — two  li\Ties,  forty  pound  a  year,  malt-hcker, 
washin,  silk-stocking,  and  wax  candles — not  countin 
wails,  which  is  somethink  pretty  considerable  at  our 
house,  I  can  tell  you. 

I  didn't  stay  long  here,  for  a  suckmstance  happened 
which  got  me  a  very  different  situation.  A  handsome 
young  genlmn,  Avho  kep  a  tilbry,  and  a  ridin  boss  at 


12  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

livry,  wanted  a  tiger.  I  bid  at  once  for  tlie  place  ;  and, 
being  a  neat  tidy-looMng  lad,  he  took  me.  Bago  gave 
me  a  character,  and  lie  my  first  livry ;  proud  enough  I 
was  of  it,  as  you  may  fancy. 

My  new  master  had  some  business  in  the  city,  for 
he  went  in  every  morning  at  ten,  got  out  of  his  tilbry  at 
the  Citty  Road,  and  had  it  waiting  for  him  at  six ; 
when,  if  it  was  summer,  he  spanked  round  into  the  Park, 
and  di-ove  one  of  the  neatest  turnouts  there.  Weiy 
proud  I  was  in  a  gold  laced  hat,  a  drab  coat,  and  a 
red  weskit,  to  sit  by  his  side,  when  he  drove.  I  already 
began  to  ogle  the  gals  in  the  carridges,  and  to  feel  that 
longing  for  fashionabl  life  which  I've  had  ever  since. 
When  he  was  at  the  oppera,  or  the  play,  down  I  went 
to  skittles,  or  to  White  Condick  Gardens;  and  Mr. 
Frederick  Altamont's  young  man  was  somebody,  I  war- 
rant ;  to  be  sure  there  is  very  few  man-servants  at  Pen- 
tonwille,  the  poppylation  being  mostly  gals  of  all  work  : 
and  so,  though  only  fourteen,  I  was  as  much  a  man 
down  there,  as  if  I  had  been  as  old  as  Jerusalem. 

But  the  most  singular  thing  was,  that  my  master, 
who  was  such  a  gay  chap,  should  Hve  in  such  a  hole. 
He  had  only  a  gi-onnd-floor  in  John  Street — a  parlor 
and  a  bed-room.  I  slept  over  the  way,  and  only  came 
in  with  his  boots  and  brexfast  of  a  morning. 

The  house  he  lodged  in  belonged  to  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Shum.  Thej  were  a  poor  but  prolifiic  couple,  who  had 
rented  the  place  for  many  years ;  and  they  and  their 
family  were  squeezed  in  it  pretty  tight,  I  can  tell  you. 

Shum  said  he  had  been  a  hofficer,  and  so  he  had. 
He  had  been  a  sub-deputy,  assistant,  vice-commissary, 
or  some  such  think ;  and,  as  I  heerd  afterwards,  had 


MISS    SHUM's    HUSBAyO.  15 

been  obliged  to  leave  on  account  of  his  nervousness.  He 
"was  such  a  coward,  the  fact  is,  that  he  was  considered 
dangerous  to  the  harmy,  and  sent  home. 

He  had  married  a  widow  Buckmaster,  who  had 
been  a  Miss  Slamcoe.  She  was  a  Bristol  gal ;  and  her 
father  being  a  bankrup  in  the  tallow-chandlering  way, 
left,  in  com-se,  a  pretty  Httle  sum  of  money.  A  thou- 
sand pound  was  settled  on  her ;  and  she  was  as  high 
and  mighty  as  if  it  had  been  a  millium. 

Buckmaster  died,  leaving  nothink ;  nothink  except 
four  UQflv  dauofhters  bv  Miss  Slamcoe :  and  her  forty 
found  a  year  w^as  rayther  a  narrow  income  for  one  of 
her  appytite  and  pretensions.  In  an  unlucky  hour  for 
Shum  she  met  him.  He  was  a  widower  with  a  little 
dauo-hter  of  three  years  old,  a  httle  house  at  Penton- 
wille,  and  a  little  income  about  as  big  as  her  owm.  I 
beheve  she  bullyd  the  poor  creature  into  marriage ;  and 
it  was  agi-eed  that  he  should  let  his  ground-floor  at 
John  Street,  and  so  add  somethink  to  their  means. 

They  mariied ;  and  the  widow  Buckmaster  was  the 
gray  mare,  I  can  tell  you.  She  w-as  always  talking  and 
blustering  about  her  famly,  the  celebrity  of  the  Buck- 
masters,  and  the  antickety  of  the  Slamcoes.  They  had 
a  six-roomed  house  (not  counting  kitching  and  sculry), 
and  now  twelve  daughters  in  all ;  whizz. — 4  Miss  Buck- 
mastei-s :  Miss  Betsy,  Miss  Dosy,  Miss  Biddy,  and  Miss 
Winny ;  1  Miss  Shum,  Mary  by  name,  Shum's  daugh- 
ter, and  seven  others,  who  shall  be  nameless.  Mi-s. 
Shum  was  a  fat,  red-haired  woman,  at  least  a  foot  taller 
than  S.,  who  was  but  a  yard  and  a  half  high,  pale-faced, 
red-uosed,  knock-kneed,  bald-headed,  his  nose  and  shut- 
frill  all  brown  with  snuff. 


14  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

Before  tlie  house  was  a  little  garden,  where  the 
washin  of  the  famly  was  all  ways  hanging.  There  was 
so  many  of  'em  that  it  was  obliged  to  be  done  by  relays. 
There  was  sLx  rails  and  a  stocking  on  each,  and  four 
small  goosbry  bushes,  always  covered  with  some  bit  of 
lining  or  other.  The  hall  was  a  regular  puddle ;  wet 
dabs  of  dishclouts  flapped  in  your  face ;  soapy  smokuig 
bits  of  flanning  went  nigh  to  choke  you ;  and  while  you 
were  looking  up  to  prevent  hanging  yom-self  with  the 
ropes  which  were  strung  across  and  about,  slap  came 
the  hedge  of  a  pail  against  your  shins,  till  one  was  like 
to  be  drove  mad  mth  hagony.  The  great  slattnly  dod- 
dling  girls  was  always  on  the  stairs,  poking  about  v/ith 
nasty  flower-pots,  a-cooking  something,  or  sprawling  in 
the  window-seats  with  greasy  curl-papers,  reading  grea- 
sy novls.  An  infernal  pianna  was  jinghng  from  morn- 
ino-  till  nio-ht — two  eldest  Miss  Buckmasters  "  Battle  of 
Prag" — six  youngest  Miss  Shums,  "  In  my  cottage,"  till 
I  knew  every  note  ui  the  "  Battle  of  Prag,"  and  cussed 
the  day  when  "  In  my  cottage"  was  rote.  The  younger 
girls,  too,  were  always  bouncing  and  thumping  about 
the  house,  with  torn  pinnyfores,  and  dogs-eard  gram- 
mars, and  large  pieces  of  bread  and  treacle.  I  never  see 
such  a  house. 

As  for  Mrs.  Shum,  she  was  such  a  fine  lady,  that 
she  did  nothink  but  lay  on  the  drawing-room  sophy, 
read  novels,  drink,  scold,  scream,  and  go  into  hystarrix. 
Little  Shum  kep  reading  an  old  newspaper  from  weeks' 
end  to  weeks'  end,  when  he  was  not  engaged  in  teach- 
in  the  children,  or  goin  for  the  beer,  or  cleanin  the  shoes, 
for  they  kep  no  servant.  This  house  in  John  Sti'eet  was 
in  short  a  regular  Pandymony. 


MISS  shum's  husband.  15 

What  could  liave  brought  Mr.  Frederic  Ahamont 
to  dwell  in  such  a  place  ?  The  reason  is  hob\'ius  :  he 
adoared  -the  fust  Miss  Shum. 

And  suttnlyhe  did  not  shew  a  bad  taste,  for  though 
the  other  daughters  were  as  ugly  as  their  hideous  ma, 
Mary  Shum  was  a  pretty,  Httle,  pink,  modest  creatur, 
with  glossy  black  hair  and  tender  blue  eyes,  and  a  neck 
as  white  as  plaster  of  Parish.  She  wore  a  dismal  old 
black  gownd,  which  had  grown  too  short  for  her,  and 
too  tight ;  but  it  only  served  to  shew  her  pretty  angles 
and  feet,  and  bewchus  figger.  Master,  though  he  had 
looked  rather  low  for  the  gal  of  his  art,  had  certainly 
looked  in  the  right  place.  Never  was  one  more  pretty 
or  more"  hamiable.'  I  gav  her  always  the  buttered  toast 
left  fi'om  our  brexfast,  and  a  cup  of  tea  or  chocklate  as 
Altamont  might  fancy ;  and  the  poor  thing  was  glad 
enouo-h  of  it,  I  can  vouch ;  for  they  had  precious  short 
commons  up  stairs,  and  she  the  least  of  all. 

For  it  seemed  as  if  which  of  the  Shum  famly  should 
try  to  snub  the  poor  thing  most.  There  was  the  four 
Buckmaster  gals  always  at  her.  It  was,  Mary,  git  the 
coal-skittle  ;  Mary  run  down  to  the  pubhc-house  for  the 
beer ;  Mary,  I  intend  to  wear  your  clean  stockens  out 
walkino-,  or  your  new  bonnet  to  church.  Only  her 
poor  father  was  kind  to  her ;  and  he,  poor  old  muff ! 
his  kindness  was  of  no  use.  Mary  bore  all  the  scold- 
ing like  an  angel,  as  she  was  ;  no,  not  if  she  had  a  pair 
of  T\-ings  and  a  goold  trumpet,  :;ould  she  have  been  a 
greater  angel. 

I  never  shall  forgit  one  seen  that  took  place.  It  was 
when  master  was  in  the  city ;  and  so,  having  nothink 
earthly  to  da,  I  happened  to  be  listening  on  the  stairs. 


IG  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

The  old  scolding  was  a-going  on,  and  the  old  tune  of 
that  hojiis  "  Battle  of  Prag."  Old  Shum  made  some 
remark ;  and  Miss  Buckmaster  cried  out,  "  Law  pa ! 
what  a  fool  you  are  !"  All  the  gals  began  laffin,  and 
so  did  Mrs.  Shum  ;  all,  that  is,  excep  Mary,  who  turned 
as  red  as  flams,  and  going  up  to  Miss  Betsy  Buckmaster, 
give  her  two  such  wax  on  her  great  red  ears  as  made 
them  tingle  again. 

Old  Mrs.  Shum  screamed,  and  ran  at  her  like  a 
Bengal  tiger.  Her  great  arms  went  weeling  about  like 
a  vinmill,  as  she  cuffed  and  thumped  poor  Mary  for 
taking  her  pa's  part.  Mary  Shum,  who  was  always 
a-crying  before,  didn't  shed  a  tear  now.  I  will  do  it 
again,  she  said,  if  Betsy  insults  my  father.  New  thumps, 
new  shreex  !  and  the  old  horridan  went  on  beatin  the 
poor  girl,  till  she  was  quite  exosted,  and  fell  down  on 
the  sophy,  puffin  like  a  poppus. 

"  For  shame,  Mary,"  began  old  Shum  :  "  for  shame, 
you  naughty  gal,  you  !  for  hurting  the  feelings  of  your 
dear  mamma,  and  beating  kind  sister." 

"  Why,  it  was  because  she  called  you  a — " 

"  If  she  did,  you  pert  miss,"  said  Shum,  looking 
mighty  dignitified,  "  I  could  correct  her,  and  not  you." 
"  You  correct  me,  indeed  !"  said  Miss  Betsy,  turning 
up  her  nose,  if  possible,  higher  than  before  ;  "  I  should 
like  to  see  you  erect  me  !  Imperence  !"  and  they  all 
began  laffin  ao-ain. 

By  this  time  Mrs.  S.  had  recovered  from  the  effex 
of  her  exsize,  and  she  began  to  pour  in  her  wolly.  Fust, 
she  called  Mary  names,  then  Shum. 

"  0  why,"  screeched  she,  "  why  did  I  ever  leave  a 
genteel  famly,  where  I  ad  every  ellygance  and  lucksry, 


MISS  shum's  husband.  17 

to  ma.'Ty  a  creature  like  this  ?  He  is  unfit  to  be  called 
a  mar,  lie  is  unworthy  to  many  a  gentlewoman  ;  and 
as  for  that  hussy,  I  disown  her !  Thank  Heaven  she  ant 
a  Slamcoe  ;  she  is  only  fit  to  be  a  Shum  !" 

"  That's  true,  mamma,"  said  all  the  gals,  for  their 
mother  had  taught  them  this  pretty  piece  of  manners, 
and  they  despised  their  father  heartily  ;  indeed,  I  have 
always  remarked  that,  in  families  where  the  wife  is  in- 
ternally talking  about  the  merits  of  her  branch,  the  hus- 
band is  invariably  a  spooney. 

Well,  when  she  was  exosted  again,  down  she  fell  on 
the  sofy,  at  her  old  tnx — more  skreeching — more  con- 
vulshuns — and  she  wouldn't  stop,  this  time,  till  Shum 
had  got  her  half  a  pint  of  her  old  remedy,  fi-om  the 
Blue  Lion  over  the  way.  She  grew  more  easy  as  she 
finished  the  gin  ;  but  Mary  v.^as  sent  out  of  the  room, 
and  told  not  to  come  back  agin  all  day. 

"  Miss  Mary,"  says  I, — for  my  heart  yurned  to  the 
poor  gal,  as  she  came  sobbing  and  misrable  down  stairs ; 
"  Miss  Mary,"  says  I,  "  K  I  might  make  so  bold,  here's 
master's  room  empty,  and  I  know  Avhere  the  cold  bif 
and  pickles  is."  "  O  Charles  !"  said  she,  nodding  her 
head  sadly,  "  I'm  too  retched  to  have  any  happytite  ;" 
and  she  flung  herself  on  a  chair,  and  began  to  cry  fit  to 
bust. 

At  this  moment,  who  should  come  in  but  my  mas- 
ter. I  had  taken  hold  of  Miss  Mary's  hand,  somehow, 
and  do  believe,  I  should  have  kist  it,  when,  as  I  said, 
Haltamont  made  his  appearance.  "  A\^iat's  this  ?"  cries 
he,  lookin  at  me  as  black  as  thunder,  or  as  Mr.  Philhps 
as  Hickit,  in  the  new  tragedy  of  Mac  Bufi". 

"  It's  only  Miss  IMary,  sir,"  answered  I. 


18  THE    YELLOWPLUSH   PAPERS. 

"  Get  out  sii-,"  says  he,  as  fierce  as  posbil,  and- 1  felt 
somethink  (  I  think  it  was  the  tip  of  his  to)  touching 
me  behind,  and  found  myself,  nex  minit,  sprawling 
among  the  wet  flannings,  and  buckets  and  things. 

The  people  from  up  staks  came  to  see  wh?t  was  the 
matter,  as  I  •  was  cussin  and  crying  out.  "  It's  only 
Charles,  ma,"  screamed  out  Miss  Betsy. 

"  Where's  Mary  ?"  says  Mrs.  Shimi,  from  the  sofy. 

"  She's  in  master's  room,  miss,"  said  I 

"  She's  in  the  lodger's  room,  ma,"  cries  Miss  Shum, 
heckoino^  me. 

"  Very  good ;  tell  her  to  stay  there  till  he  comes 

back."     And  then,  Miss  Shum  went  bouncing  up  the 

stairs  again,  httle  knowing  of  Haltamont's  return. 
***** 

I'd  long  before  observed  that  my  master  had  an 
anchoring  after  Mary  Shum  ;  indeed,  as  I  have  said,  it 
was  j)urely  for  her  sake  that  he  took  and  kep  his  lodg- 
ings at  Pentonwille.  Excep  for  the  sake  of  love  which 
is  above  being  mersnary,  fourteen  shillings  a  wick  was 
a  little  too  strong  for  two  such  rat-holes  as  he  lived  in. 
I  do  blieve  the  family  had  nothing  else  but  their  lodger 
to  Hve  on :  they  brekfisted  off  his  tea-leaves,  they  cut 
away  pounds  and  pounds  of  meat  from  his  jints  (he  al- 
ways dined  at  home),  and  his  baker's  bill  was  at  least 
enough  for  six.  But  that  wasn't  my  business.  I  saw 
him  grin,  sometimes,  when  I  laid  do^vn  the  cold  bif  of 
a  morning,  to  see  how  httle  was  left  of  yesterday's  sir- 
line  ;  but  he  never  said  a  syllabub  ;  for  true  love  don't 
mind  a  pound  of  meat  or  so  hextra. 

At  first,  he  was  very  kind  an  attentive  to  all  the 
gals ;    Miss   Betsy,  in   partickler,  grew  mighty  fond  of 


MISS    SHUMS    HUSBAND.  19 

him ;  they  sate,  for  whole  evenings,  playing  cribbitch, 
he  taking  his  pipe  and  glas,  she  her  tea  and  muflBng ; 
but  as  it  was  improper  for  her  to  come  alone,  she  brought 
one  of  her  sisters,  and  this  was  genrally  Maiy, — for  he 
made  a  pint  of  asking  her,  too, — and  one  day,  when  one 
of  the  others  came  instead,  he  told  her,  very  quitely, 
that  he  hadn't  invited  her ;  and  ISIiss  Buckm  aster  was 
too  fond  of  muffings  to  try  this  game  on  again  ;  besides, 
she  was  jealous  of  her  three  gTown  sisters,  and  consid- 
ered Mary  as  only  a  child.  Law  bless  us !  how  she 
used  to  ogle  him,  and  quot  bits  of  pottry,  and  play 
"  Meet  me  by  moonlike,"  on  an  old  gitter ;  she  reglar 
flung  herself  at  his  head,  but  he  wouldn't  have  it,  bein 
better  ockypied  elsewhere. 

One  night,  as  genteel  as  possible,  he  brought  home 
tickets  for  Ashley's,  and  proposed  to  take  the  two  young 
ladies — Miss  Betsy,  and  Miss  Mary,  in  course.  I  reck- 
lect  he  called  me  aside  that  afternoon,  assuming  a  sola- 
mon  and  misterus  hare,  "  Charles,"  said  he,  "  are  you  up 
to  snuff  P 

"  Why  sir,"  said  I,  "  I'm  genrally  considered  tolela- 
bly  downy." 

"  Well,"  says  he,  "  I'll  give  you  half  a  suffering  if 
you  can  manage  this  bisniss  for  me ;  I've  chose  a  rainy 
night  on  purpus.  When  the  theatre  is  over,  you  must 
be  waitin  with  two  umbrellows ;  give  me  one,  and  hold 
the  other  over  Miss  Shum;  and,  hark  jQy&\\\  turn  to 
the  riffht  when  you  leave  the  theatre,  and  say  the  coach 
is  ordered  to  stand  a  httle  way  up  the  street,  in  order  to 
get  rid  of  the  crowd." 

We  went  (in  a  fly  hired  by  Mr.  H.),  and  never  shaU 
[  forgit  Cartliche's  hacting  on  that  memrable  night. 


20  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

Talk  of  Kimble !  talk  of  Magi-eedy !  Ashley's  for  my 
money,  with  Cartlitch  in  the  principal  part.  But  this 
is  nothink  to  the  porpus.  When  the  play  was  over,  I 
was  at  the  door  with  the  umbrellos.  It  was  raining 
cats  and  dogs,  sure  enough. 

Mr.  Altamont  came  out  presently,  Miss  Mary  under 
his  arm,  and  Miss  Betsy  followin  behind,  rayther  sulky. 
"  This  way,  sir,"  cries  I,  pushin  forward ;  and  I  threw 
a  great  cloak  over  Miss  Betsy,  fit  to  smother  her. 
Mr.  A.  and  Miss  Mary  skipped  on,  and  was  out  of 
sight  when  Miss  Betsy's  cloak  was  settled,  you  may  be 
sure. 

"  They're  only  gone  to  the » fly,  miss.  It's  a  httle 
way  up  the  street,  away  from  the  crowd  of  carriages." 
And  off  we  turned  to  the  right,  and  no  mistake. 

After  marchin  a  little  through  the  plash  and  mud, 
"  Has  anybody  seen  Coxy's  fly  ?"  cries  I,  with  the  most 
innocent  haxent  in  the  world. 

"  Cox's  fly  !"  hollows  out  one  chap.  "  Is  it  the  vag- 
gin  you  want  ?"  says  another.  "  I  see  the  blackin  wan 
pass,"  giggles  out  another  genlmn  ;  and  there  was  such 
an  interchange  of  complimints  as  you  never  heerd.  I 
pass  them  over  though,  because  some  of  'em  were  not 
wery  genteel. 

"  Law,  miss,"  said  I,  "  what  shall  I  do  ?  My  master 
will  never  forgive  me  :  and  I  haven't  a  single  sixpence 
to  pay  a  coach."  Miss  Betsy  was  just  going  to  call  one 
when  I  said  that,  but  the  coachman  wouldn't  have  it 
at  that  price,  he  said,  and  I  knew  very  well  that  f^he 
hadn't  four  or  five  shillings  to  pay  for  a  wehicle.  So, 
in  the  midst  of  that  tarin  rain,  at  midnight,  we  had  to 
walk  four  miles,  from  Westminster  Bridge  to  Penton- 


21 

wille ;  and,  what  was  ^vllss,  /  didnH  happen  to  know  the 
way.     A  very  nice  walk  it  was,  and  no  mistake. 

At  about  half-past  two,  we  got  safe  to  John  Street. 
My  Master  was  at  the  garden  gate.  Miss  Mary  flew  into 
Miss  Betsy's  arms,  whil  master  began  cussin  and  swear- 
in  at  me  for  disobeying  his  orders,  and  turning  to  the 
right  instead  of  to  the  left !  Law  bless  me  !  his  acting 
of  anger  was  very  near  as  natral  and  as  terrybl  as  Mr. 
Cartlich's  in  the  play. 

They  had  waited  half  an  hour,  he  said,  in  the  fly,  in 
the  little  street  at  the  left  of  the  theatre ;  they  had  drove 
up  and  down  in  the  greatest  fright  possible ;  and  at  last 
came  home,  thinking  it  was  in  vain  to  wait  any  more. 
They  gave  her  'ot  rum  and  water  and  roast  oysters  for 
supper,  and  this  consoled  her  a  little. 

I  hope  nobody  will  cast  an  imputation  on  Miss  Mary 
for  her  share  in  this  adventer,  for  she  was  as  honest  a 
gal  as  ever  hved,  and  I  do  beHeve  is  hignorant  to  this 
day  of  om*  little  strattygim.  Besides,  all's  fair  m  love ; 
and,  as  my  master  could  never  get  to  see  her  alone,  on 
account  of  her  infernal  eleven  sisters  and  ma,  he  took 
this  opportunity  of  expressin  his  attachment  to  her. 

If  he  was  in  love  with  her  before,  you  may  be  sure 
she  paid  it  him  back  again  now.  Ever  after  the  night 
at  Ashley's,  they  were  as  tender  as  two  tuttle-doves — 
which  fully  accounts  for  the  axdent  what  happened  to . 
me,  in  being  kicked  out  of  the  room  ;  and  in  course  I 
bore  no  mallis. 

I  don't  know  whether  Miss  Betsy  still  fancied  that 
my  master  was  in  love  with  her,  but  she  loved  muflSngs 
and  tea,  and  kem  down  to  his  parlor  as  much  as  ever 

Now  cornea  the  sing'lar  part  of  my  history. 


22  THE    YELLOWPLUSH   PAPERS. 


CHAPTER  11. 

But  who  was  tliis  genlmn  with  a  fine  name — Mr, 
Frederic  Altamont  ?  or  what  was  he  ?  The  most  mys- 
terus  genhnn  that  ever  I  knew.  Once  I  said  to  him,  on  a 
wery  rainy  day,  "  Su*,  shall  I  bring  the  gig  down  to 
your  office  ?"  and  he  gave  me  one  of  his  black  looks, 
and  one  of  his  loudest  hoaths,  and  told  me  to  mind  my 
own  bizziness,  and  attend  to  my  orders.  Another  day, — 
it  was  on  the  day  when  Miss  Mary  slapped  Miss  Betsy's 
face, — Miss  M.,  who  adoared  him,  as  I  have  said  already, 
kep  on  asking  him  what  was  his  buth,  parentidg,  and 
ediccation.  "  Dear  Frederic,"  says  she,  "  why  this  mis- 
try  about  yourself  and  your  hactions  ?  why  hide  from 
your  little  Maiy" — they  were  as  tender  as  this,  I  can 
tell  you — "  your  buth  and  your  professin  ?" 

I  spose  Mr.  Frederic  looked  black,  for  I  was  only 
listening,  and  he  said,  in  a  voice  agitated  by  a  motion, 
"  Mary,"  said  he,  "  if  you  love  me,  ask  me  this  no  more ; 
let  it  be  sfishnt  for  you  to  know  that  I  am  a  honest 
man,  and  that  a  secret,  what  it  would  be  miseiy  for  you 
to  larn,  must  hang  over  all  my  actions — that  is,  from 
ten  o'clock  till  six." 

They  went  on  chaffin  and  talking  in  this  melumcolly 
and  mysterus  way,  and  I  didn't  lose  a  word  of  what  they 
said,  for  them  houses  in  Pentonwill  have  only  walls  made 
of  pasteboard,  and  you  hear  rayther  better  outside  the 
room  than  in.  But,  though  he  kep  up  his  secret,  he 
swore  to  her  his  affektion  this  day  pint  blank.  !N'othing 
should  prevent  him,  he  said,  from  leading  her  to  the 
halter,  from  makin  her  his  adoarable  wife.     After  this 


MISS  shum's  husband.  28 

was  a  sliglit  silence.  "Dearest  Frederic,"  mummered 
out  miss,  speaMn  as  if  she  was  chokin,  "I  am  yours 
— yours  for  ever."  x\nd  then  silence  agen,  and  one  or 
two  smax,  as  if  there  was  Mssin  going  on.  Here  I 
thought  it  best  to  give  a  rattle  at  the  door-lock ;  for,  as 
I  live,  there  was  old  Mrs.  Shimi  a-walkin  down  the 
stairs ! 

It  appears  that  one  of  the  younger  gals,  a  looking 
out  of  the  bed-rum  window,  had  seen  my  master  come 
in,  and  cominor  down  to  tea  half  an  hour  afterwards,  said 
so  in  a  cussary  way.  Old  Mrs.  Shum,  who  was  a  dragon 
of  vertyou,  cam  busthng  down  the  stairs,  panting  and 
frowning,  as  fat  and  as  fierce  as  a  old  sow  at  feedin  time. 

"  Where's  the  lodger,  fellow  ?"  says  she  to  me. 

I  spoke  loud  enough  to  be  heard  down  the  street — 
"  If  you  mean,  ma'am,  my  master,  Mr.  Frederic  Alta- 
mont,  esquire,  he's  just  stept  in,  and  is  puttin  on  clean 
shoes  in  his  bed-room." 

She  said  nothink  in  answer,  but  flumps  past  me, 
and  opening  the  parlor-door,  sees  master  looking  very 
queer,  and  Miss  Mary  a  drooping  down  her  head  like  a 
pale  lily. 

"  Did  you  come  into  my  family,"  says  she,  "  to  cor- 
rupt my  daughters,  and  to  destroy  the  hinnocence  of 
that  infamous  gal  ?  Did  you  come  here,  sir,  as  a  se- 
ducer, or  only  as  a  lodger  ?  Speak,  sir,  speak !" — and 
she  folded  her  arms  quite  fierce,  and  looked  hke  Mrs. 
Siddums  in  the  Tragic  Mews. 

"  I  came  here,  Mrs.  Shum,"  said  he,  "  because  I 
loved  your  daughter,  or  I  never  would  have  conde- 
scended to  hve  in  such  a  beggarly  hole.  I  have  treated 
her  in  every  respeck  like  a  genlmn,  and  she  is  as  bin- 


24  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

nocent  now,  mam,  as  she  was  when  she  was  born.  If 
she'll  marry  me,  I  am  ready ;  if  she'll  leave  you,  she 
shall  have  a  home  where  she  shall  be  neither  biillyd 
nor  starved ;  no  hangry  frumps  of  sisters,  no  cross 
mother-in-law,  only  an  affeckshnat  husband,  and  all  the 
pure  pleasures  of  Hjrming." 

Mary  flung  herself  into  his  arms — "  Dear,  dear 
Frederic,"  says  she,  "  I'll  never  leave  you." 

"  Miss,"  says  Mrs.  Shum,  "  you  ain't  a  Slamcoe  nor 
yet  a  Buckmaster,  thank  God.  You  may  marry  this 
person  if  your  pa  thinks  proper,  and  he  may  insult  me 
— brave  me — trample  on  my  feehnx  in  my  own  house 
— and  there's  no-o-o-obody  by  to  defend  me." 

I  knew  what  she  was  going  to  be  at :  on  came  her 
histarrix  agen,  and  she  began  screechin  and  roarin  like 
mad.  Down  comes,  of  course,  the  eleven  gals  and  old 
Shum.  There  was  a  pretty  row.  "Look  here,  sir," 
says  she,  "  at  the  conduck  of  your  precious  trull  of  a 
daughter — alone  with  this  man,  kissin  and  dandlin,  and 
Lawd  knows  what  besides." 

"  What,  he  ?"  cries  Miss  Betsy — "  he  in  love  with 
Mary !  O,  the  wretch,  the  monster,  the  deceiver !" — 
and  she  falls  down  too,  screeching  away  as  loud  as  her 
mamma ;  for  the  silly  creature  fancied  still  that  Alta- 
mount  had  a  fondness  for  her. 

"  Silence  these  women  !"  shouts  out  Altamont,  thun- 
dering loud.  "I  love  your  daughter,  Mr.  Shum.  I 
will  take  her  without  a  penny,  and  can  afford  to  keep 
her.  If  you  don't  give  her  to  me,  she'll  come  of  her  own 
will.     Is  that  enough  ? — may  I  have  her  ?" 

"  We'll  talk  of  this  matter,  sir,"  says  Mr.  Shum, 
looking  as  high  and  mighty  as  an  alderman.     "  Gals, 


MISS  shum's  husband.  25 

go  up  stairs  with  your  dear  mamma." — And  they  all 
trooped  up  again,  and  so  the  skrimmage  ended. 

You  may  be  sure  that  old  Shum  was  not  very  sony 
to  get  a  husband  for  his  daughter  Mary,  for  the  old 
oreatur  loved  her  better  than  all  the  pack  which  had 
been  brought  him  or  born  to  him  by  Mrs.  Buckmaster. 
But,  strange  to  say,  when  he  came  to  talk  of  settle- 
ments and  so  forth,  not  a  word  would  my  master  an- 
swer. He  said  he  made  four  hundred  a-year  reg'lar — 
he  wouldn't  tell  how — but  Mary,  if  she  married  him, 
must  share  all  that  he  had,  and  ask  no  questions ;  only 
this  he  would  say,  as  he'd  said  before,  that  he  was  a 
honest  man- 

They  were  married  in  a  few  days,  and  took  a  very 
genteel  house  at  Islington ;  but  still  my  master  went 
away  to  business,  and  nobody  knew  where.  Who 
could  he  be  ? 


CHAPTER  III. 

If  ever  a  young  kipple  in  the  middhn  classes  began 
life  with  a  chance  of  happiness,  it  was  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Frederick  Altamont.  There  house  at  Cannon  Row, 
Islington,  was  as  comforable  as  house  could  be.  Car- 
pited  from  top  to  to ;  pore's  rates  small ;  furnitur  ely- 
gant ;  and  three  deomestix,  of  which  I,  in  course,  was 
one.  My  life  wasn't  so  easy  as  in  Mr.  A.'s  bachelor 
days ;  but,  what  then  ?  The  three  Ws.  is  my  maxum : 
plenty  of  work,  plenty  of  wittles,  and  plenty  of  wages. 
Altamont  kep  his  gig  no  longer,  but  went  to  the  city 
in  an  omlibuster. 

One  would  have  thought,  I  say,  that  Mrs.  A.,  with 
2 


26  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 


sucli  an  efFeckshmit  husband,  miglit  have  been  as  happy 
as  her  blessid  majisty.  Nothink  of  the  sort.  For  the 
fast  six  months  it  was  all  very  well ;  but  then  she  grew 
gloomier  and  gloomier,  though  A.  did  everythink  in  hfe 
to  please  her. 

Old  Shum  used  to  come  reglarly  four  times  a  wick 
to  Cannon  Row,  where  he  lunched,  and  dined,  and 
teed,  and  supd.  The  poor  httle  man  was  a  thought  too 
fond  of  wine  and  spirits;  and  many  and  many's  the 
night  that  I've  had  to  support  him  home.  And  you 
may  be  sure  that  Miss  Betsy  did  not  now  desert 
her  sister ;  she  was  at  our  place  mornink,  noon,  and 
night,  not  much  to  mymayster's  liking,  though  he  was 
too  good  natured  to  wex  his  wife  in  trifles. 

But  Betsy  never  had  forgotten  the  recollection  of 
old  days,  and  hated  Altamont  like  the  foul  feind.  She 
put  all  kinds  of  bad  things  into  the  head  of  poor  inno- 
cent missis ;  who,  from  being  all  gaiety  and  cheerful- 
ness, grew  to  be  quite  melumcoUy  and  pale,  and 
retchid,  just  as  if  she  had  been  the  most  misrable  wo- 
man in  the  world. 

In  thi-ee  months  more,  a  baby  comes,  in  course,  and 
with  it  old  Mrs.  Shum,  who  stuck  to  Mrs.  side  as  close 
as  a  wampire,  and  made  her  retchider  and  retchider. 
She  used  to  bust  into  tears  when  Altamont  came 
home ;  she  used  to  sigh  and  wheep  over  the  pore  child, 
and  say,  "  My  child,  my  child,  your  father  is  false  to 
me ;"  or,  "  your  father  deceives  me ;"  or,  "  what  will 
you  do  when  your  poor  mother  is  no  more  ?"  or  such 
like  sentimental  stuff. 

It  all  came  from  Mother  Shum,  and  her  old  trix,  as 
I  soon  found  out.     The  fact  is,  when  there  is  a  mistry 


MISS  shum's  husband.  2*7 

of  this  kind  in  the  house,  its  a  servant's  d.uty  to  listen ; 
and  hsten  I  did,  one  day  ^vhen  Mrs.  was  cryin  as  usual, 
and  fat  Mrs.  Shum  a  sittin  eonsolin  her,  as  she  called  it, 
though.  Heaven  knows,  she  only  grew  wuss  and  wuss 
for  the  consolation. 

Well,  I  listened ;  Mrs.  Shum  was  a  rockin  the  baby, 
and  missis  cryin  as  yousual. 

"  Pore  dear  innocint,"  says  Mrs.  S.,  heavin  a  gTeat 
sigh,  "  you're  the  child  of  a  unknown  father,  and  a  mis- 
rabble  mother." 

"  Don't  speak  ill  of  Frederic,  mamma,"  says  missis ; 
"  he  is  all  kindness  to  me." 

"  All  kindness,  indeed  1  yes,  he  gives  you  a  fine 
house,  and  a  fine  gownd,  and  a  ride  in  a  fly  whenever 
you  please ;  but  lohere  does  all  his  mxmey  come  from  ? 
Who  is  he — what  is  he  ?  Who  knows  that  he  mayn't 
be  a  murdrer,  or  a  housebreaker,  or  a  utterer  of  forged 
notes  ?  How  can  he  make  his  money  honestly,  when 
he  won't  say  where  he  gets  it  ?  Why  does  he  leave 
you  eight  hom-s  every  blessid  day,  and  won't  say  where 
he  goes  to  ?  Oh,  Mary,  Mary,  you  are  the  most  injured 
of  women !" 

And  with  this  Mrs.  Shum  began  sobbin  ;  and  Miss 
Betsy  began  yowling  like  a  cat  in  a  gitter ;  and  pore 
missis  cried,  too — tears  is  so  remarkable  infeckshus. 

"Perhaps,  mamma,"  wimpered  out  she,  "Fredric 
is  a  shopboy,  and  don't  like  me  to  know  that  he  is  not 
a  gentleman." 

"  A  shopboy,"  says  Betsy ;  "  he  a  shopboy  I  0  no, 
no,  no !  more  hkely  a  wi-etched  willain  of  a  murderer, 
stabbin  and  robing  all  day,  and  feedin  you  with  the 
fi-uits  of  his  ill-gotten  games !" 


28  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

More  cryin  and  screechin  here  took  place,  in  which 
the  baby  joined ;  and  made  a  very  pretty  consort,  I  can 
tell  you. 

"He  can't  be  a  robber,"  cries  missis;  "he's  too 
good,  too  kind,  for  that ;  besides,  murdering  is  done  at 
night,  and  Frederic  is  always  home  at  eight." 

"  But  he  can  be  a  forger,"  says  Betsy,  "  a  wicked, 
wicked  forger.  Why  does  he  go  away  every  day? 
to  forge  notes,  to  be  sure.  Why  does  he  go  to  the  city  ? 
to  be  near  banks  and  places,  and  so  do  it  more  at  his 
convenience." 

"  But  he  brings  home  a  sum  of  money  every  day — 
about  thirty  shillings — sometimes  fifty;  and  then  he 
smiles,  and  says  its  a  good  day's  work.  This  is  not  like 
a  forger,"  said  pore  Mrs.  A. 

"  I  have  it — I  have  it !"  screams  out  Mrs.  S.  "  Tl>e 
villain — the  sneaking,  double-faced  Jonas  !  he's  married 
to  somebody  else,  he  is,  and  that's  why  he  leaves  you, 
the  base  biggymist !" 

At  this,  Mrs.  Altamont,  struck  all  of  a  heap,  fainted 
clean  away.  A  dreadfid  business  it  was — histariTs ; 
then  hystarrix,  in  com-se,  from  Mrs.  Shum  ;  bells  ringin, 
child  squahn,  suwants  tearin  up  and  down  stairs  with 
hot  water !  If  ever  there  is  a  noosance  in  the  world, 
it's  a  house  where  faintin  is  always  goin  on.  I  wouldn't 
live  in  one, — no,  not  to  be  gi-oom  of  the  chambers,  and 
git  two  hundred  a  year. 

It  was  eight  o'clock  in  the  evenin  when  this  row  took 
place ;  and  such  a  row  it  was,  that  nobody  but  me 
heard  master's  knock.  He  came  in,  and  heard  the  hoop- 
ing, and  screeching,  and  roaring.  He  seemed  very 
much  frightened  at  fii'st,  and  said,  "  What  is  it  ?" 


MISS  shum's  husband.  29 


«  Mrs.  Shum's  here,"  says  I,  "  and  Mrs.  in  astarrix." 

Altamont  looked  as  black  as  thunder,  and  growled 
out  a  word  which  I  don't  like  to  name, — let  it  suffice 
that  it  begins  with  a  d  and  ends  with  a  nation  ;  and  he 
tore  up  stairs  like  mad. 

He  bust  open  the  bed-room  door ;  missis  lay  quite 
pale  and  stony  on  the  sofy ;  the  babby  was  screechin 
from  the  craddle ;  Miss  Betsy  was  sprawhn  over  missis ; 
and  Mrs.  Shum  half  on  the  bed  and  half  on  the  ground ; 
all  howhn  and  squeehn,  like  so  many  dogs  at  the  moond. 

When  A.  came  in,  the  mother  and  daughter  stop- 
ped all  of  a  sudding.  There  had  been  one  or  two  tiffs 
before  between  them,  and  they  feared  him  as  if  he  had 
been  a  hogre. 

"  What's  this  infernal  screechmg  and  crying  about  ?" 

says  he. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Altamont,"  cries  the  old  woman,  "you 
know  too  well ;  it's  about  you  that  this  darling  child  is 
misrabble  1" 

"  And  why  about  me,  pray,  madam  ?" 

"  Why,  su',  dare  you  ask  why  ?  Because  you  de- 
ceive her,  sir ;  because  you  are  a  false,  cowardly  traitor, 
sir ;  because  ^Jou  have  a  wife  elsewhere,  sir  P'  And  the 
old  lady  and  Miss  Betsy  began  to  roar  again  as  loud  as 
ever. 

Altamont  pawsed  for  a  minnit,  and  then  flung  the 
door  -vN-ide  open ;  nex  he  seized  Miss  Betsy  as  if  his  hand 
were  a  A^ce,  and  he  world  her  out  of  the  room ;  then  up 
he  goes  to  Mi-s.  S.  "  Get  up,"  says  he,  thimdering  loud, 
"  you  lazy,  troUopping,  mischief-making,  lymg  old  fool ! 
Get  up,  and  get  out  of  this  house.  You  have  been  the 
cuss  and  bain  of  my  happynis.s  since  you  entered  it. 


80  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

With  your  d — d  lies,  and  novvle  reading,  and  histerrix, 
you  have  perwerted  Mary,  and  made  her  almost  as  mad 
as  yourself."  "  My  child !  my  child !"  shriex  out  Mrs. 
Shum,  and  clings  round  missis.  But  Altamont  ran  be- 
tween them,  and  gi'iping  the  old  lady  by  her  arm, 
dragged  her  to  the  door.  "Follow  your  daughter, 
ma'am,"  says  he,  and  down  she  went.  "  Chaivls,  see 
those  ladies  to  the  door,''^  he  hollows  out,  "  and  never  let 
them  pass  it  again."  We  walked  dov/n  together,  and 
off  they  went ;  and  master  locked  and  double-locked  the 
bed-room  door  after  him,  intendin,  of  course,  to  have  a 
tator  tator  (as  they  say)  Avith  his  wife.  You  may  be  sure 
that  I  followed  up  stairs  again  pretty  quick,  to  hear  the 
result  of  their  confidence. 

As  they  say  at  St.  Stevenses,  it  was  rayther  a  stormy 
debate.  "  Mary,"  says  master,  "  you're  no  longer  the 
merry,  gi*ateful  gal,  I  knew  and  loved  at  Pentonwill ; 
there's  some  secret  a  pressin  on  you — there's  no  smilin 
welcom  for  me  now,  as  there  used  formly  to  be !  Your 
mother  and  sister-in-law  have  perwerted  you,  Mary ; 
and  that's  why  I've  drove  them  from  this  house,  which 
they  shall  not  re-enter  in  my  hfe." 

"  0,  Frederic !  it's  you  is  the  cause,  and  not  I.  Why 
do  you  have  any  mistry  from  me  ?  Where  do  you  spend 
your  days  ?  Why  did  you  leave  me,  even  on  the  day 
of  your  marridge,  for  eight  hours,  and  continue  to  do  so 
every  day  ?" 

"  Because,"  says  he,  "  I  makes  my  livelihood  by  it. 
I  leave  you,  and  don't  tell  you  hoio  I  make  it :  for  it 
would  make  you  none  the  happier  to  know." 

It  was  in  this  way  the  convysation  ren  on — more 
tears  and   questions  on  my  missises  part,  more  sturm- 


MISS   shum's  HUSBA^TD.  81 

ness  and  silence  on  my  master's :  it  ended,  for  the  first 
time  since  theii*  marridge,  in  a  reglar  quarrel.  Wery 
difrent,  I  can  tell  you,  from  all  tlie  hammerous  billing 
and  kewing  which  had  proceeded  theii'  nupshuls. 

Master  went  out,  slamming  the  door  in  a  fury ;  as 
well  he  might.  Says  he,  "  K  I  can't  have  a  comforable 
life,  I  can  have  a  jolly  one ;"  and  so  he  went  off  to  the 
hed  tavern,  and  came  home  that  evening  beesly  intaw- 
sicated.  When  high  words  begin  in  a  family,  drink 
generally  follows  on  the  genlman's  side ;  and  then,  fear- 
well  to  all  conjubial  happjmiss !  These  two  pipple,  so 
fond  and  lo\ing,  were  now  sirly,  silent,  and  full  of  il  wil. 
Master  went  out  earher,  and  came  home  later ;  misses 
cried  more,  and  looked  even  paler  than  before. 

Well,  things  went  on  in  this  uncomforable  way, 
master  still  in  the  mopes,  missis  tempted  by  the  deamons 
of  jellosy  and  curosity  ;  imtil  a  singlar  axident  brought 
to  light  all  the  goings  on  of  Mr.  Altamont. 

It  was  the  tenth  of  January ;  I  recklect  the  day,  for 
old  Shum  gev  me  half-a-crownd  (the  fast  and  last  of  his 
money  I.  ever  see,  by  the  way):  he  was  dining  along 
with  master,  and  they  were  making  merry  together. 

Master  said,  as  he  was  mixing  his  fifth  tumler  of 
pimch,  and  little  Shimi  his  twelfth,  or  so — master  said, 
"  T  see  you  twice  in  the  City  to-day,  Mr.  Shimi." 

"  Well  that's  curous  !"  says  Shum.  "  I  vjas  in  the 
City.  To-day's  the  day  when  the  diwydins  (God  bless 
'em)  is  paid ;  and  me  and  Mrs.  S.  went  for  oiu-  half- 
year's  inkem.  But  we  only  got  out  of  the  coach,  cross- 
ed the  street  to  the  Bank,  took  our  money,  and  got  in 
agen.     How  could  you  see  me  twice  ?" 

Altamont  stuttered,  and  stammered,  and  hemd,  and 


32  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

hawd.  "  0  !"  says  he,  "  I  was  passing — passing  as  you 
went  in  and  out."  And  he  instantly  turned  the  con- 
versation, and  began  talking  about  pollytix,  or  the 
weather,  or  some  such  stuf. 

"  Yes,  my  dear,"  said  my  missis  ;  "  but  how  could 
you  see  papa  twice?"  Master  didn't  answer,  but  talk- 
ed pollytix  more  than  ever.  Still  she  would  continy 
on.  "  Where  was  you,  my  dear,  when  you  saw  pa  ? 
What  were  you  doing,  my  love,  to  see  pa  twice  ?"  and 
so  forth.  Master  looked  angrier  and  angrier,  and  his 
wife  only  pressed  him  wuss  and  wuss. 

This  was,  as  I  said,  little  Shum's  twelfth  tumler ; 
and  I  knew  pritty  well  that  he  could  git  very  httle  fur- 
ther ;  for,  as  reglar  as  the  thirteenth  came,  Shum  was 
drunk.  The  thirteenth  did  come,  and  its  consquinzes. 
I  was  obliged  to  leed  him  home  to  John  Street,  where 
I  left  him  in  the  hangry  arms  of  Mrs.  Shum. 

"  How  the  d — ,"  sayd  he  all  the  way,  "  how  the 
ddd — the  deddy — deddy — devil — could  he  have  seen 
me  twice?" 


CHAPTER  IV. 

It  was  a  sad  slip  on  Altamont's  part,  for  no  sooner  did 
he  go  out  the  next  morning  than  missis  went  out  too. 
She  tor  down  the  street,  and  never  stopped  till  she 
came  to  her  pa's  house  at  Pentonwill.  She  was  clositid 
for  an  hour  with  her  ma,  and  when  she  left  her  she 
drove  straight  to  the  City.  She  walked  before  the 
Bank,  and  behind  the  Bank,  and  round  the  Bank :  ahe 
came  home  disperryted,  having  learned  nothink. 

And  it  was  now  an  extraordinary  thing,  that  firom 


MISS  shum's  husband.  33 

Shum's  house,  for  the  next  ten  days,  there  was  nothink 
but  expyditions  into  the  City.  ]SIrs.  S.,  tho  her  dropsic- 
cle  legs  had  never  carred  her  half  so  far  before,  was 
eternally  on  the  key  veve,  as  the  French  say.  If  she 
didn't  go,  Miss  Betsy  did,  or  misses  did  :  they  seemed 
to  have  an  attrackshun  to  the  Bank,  and  went  there  as 
natral  as  an  omlibus. 

At  last  one  day,  old  Mrs.  Shum  comes  to  our  house 
— (she  wasn't  admitted  when  master  was  there,  but 
came  still  in  his  absints — and  she  wore  a  hair  of  try- 
umph  as  she  entered. 

"  Mary,"  says  she,  "  where  is  the  money  your  hus- 
bind  brought  to  you  yesterday?"  My  master  used 
always  to  give  it  to  missis  when  he  retm*ned. 

"  The  money,  ma !"  says  Mary.  Why  here !"  And, 
pulling  out  her  puss,  she  shewed  a  so\Tin,  a  good  heap 
of  silver,  and  an  odd-looking  little  coin. 

"  That's  it  !  that's  it !"  cried  Mrs.  S.  "  A  Queene 
Anne's  sixpence,  isn't  it  dear — dated  seventeen  hundred 
and  three  ?" 

It  was  so  sure  enough :  a  Queen  Ans  sixpince  of 
that  very  date. 

"  Now,  my  love,"  says  she,  "  I  have  found  him ! 
Come  vdth.  me  to-morrow,  and  you  shall  know  all  1" 

And  now  comes  the  end  of  my  story. 

***** 

The  ladies  nex  morning  set  out  for  the  City,  and  I 
walked  behind,  doing  the  genteel  thing,  with  a  nosegy 
and  a  goold  stick.  We  walked  down  the  New  Road 
— we  walked  down  the  City  Road — we  walked  to  the 
Bank.  We  were  crossing  from  that  heddyfiz  to  the 
2* 


34  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

other  side  of  Cornliill,  when  all  of  a  sudden,  missis 
shreeked,  and  fainted  spontaceously  away. 

I  rushed  forrard,  and  raised  her  to  my  arms  :  spil- 
ing thereby  a  new  wesMt,  and  a  pair  of  crimson  smal- 
cloes.  I  rushed  forrard,  I  say,  very  nearly  knocking 
down  the  old  sweeper,  who  was  hobling  away  as  fast  as 
posibil.  We  took  her  to  Birch's;  we  provided  her 
with  a  hackney-coach  and  every  lucksury,  and  carried 

her  home  to  Islington. 

%  %  *  %  * 

That  night  master  never  came  home.  Nor  the  nex 
night,  nor  the  nex.  On  the  fourth  day,  an  octioneer 
arrived ;  he  took  an  infantry  of  the  furnitur,  and  placed 
a  bill  in  the  window. 

At  the  end  of  the  wick,  Altamont  made  his  ap- 
pearance. He  was  haggard  and  pale ;  not  so  haggard, 
however,  not  so  pale,  as  his  misrable  wife. 

He  looked  at  her  very  tendrilly.     I  may  say,  it's 

from  him  that  I  coppied  my  look  to  Miss .     He 

looked  at  her  very  tendiiily,  and  held  out  his  arms. 
She  gev  a  suffycating  shreek,  and  rusht  into  his  um- 
braces. 

"  Mary,"  says  he,  "  you  know  all  now.  I  have  sold 
my  place  ;  I  have  got  three  thousand  pound  for  it,  and 
saved  two  more.  I've  sold  my  house  and  furnitur,  and 
that  brings  me  another.  We'll  go  abroad  and  love 
each  other,  has  formly." 

And  now  you  ask  me.  Who  he  was  ?  I  shudder 
to  relate. — Mr.  Haltamont  sweep  the  crossin  from 
THE  Bank  to  Cornhill  ! ! 

Of  cors,  /  left  his  servis.  I  met  him,  few  years 
after,  at  Badden-Badden,  where  he  and  Mrs.  A  were 
much  respectid,  and  pass  for  pipple  of  propaty. 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  35 


THE  AMOURS  OF  MR.  DEUCEACE. 

DIMOND    CUT   DIMOND. 

The  name  of  my  nex  master  was,  if  posbil,  still 
more  ellygant  and  yonfonious  than  that  of  my  fust.  I 
now  fonnd  myself  boddy  servant  to  the  Honrabble  Hal- 
gernon  Percy  Deiiceace,  yomigest  and  fifth  son  of  the 
Earl  of  Crabs. 

Halgemon  was  a  baiTystir — that  is,  he  lived  in 
Pump  Court  Temple  ;  a  wulgar  naybrood,  witch  praps 
my  readers  don't  no.  Suffiz  to  say,  its  on  the  confines 
of  the  citty,  and  the  choasen  aboad  of  the  lawyers  of 
this  metrappoHsh. 

When  I  say  that  Mr.  Deuceace  was  a  barrystir,  I 
don't  mean  that  he  went  sesshums  or  sm'coats  (as  they 
call'em),  but  simply  that  he  kep  chambers,  lived  in 
Pump  Court,  and  looked  out  for  a  commitionarship,  or 
a  revisinship,  or  any  other  place  that  the  iWig  guwy- 
ment  could  give  him.  His  father  was  a  Wig  pier  (as 
the  landriss  told  me),  and  had  been  a  Toary  pier.  The 
fack  is,  his  lordship  was  so  poar,  that  he  would  be  any- 
think  or  nothink,  to  get  provisions  for  his  sons  and  an 
iukima  for  him  self 

I  phansy  that  he  aloud  Halgernon  two  himdred  a- 


36  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 


year  ;  and  it  would  liave  been  a  very  comforable  main 
tenants,  only  lie  knever  paid  him. 

Owever,  the  young  gnlmn  was  a  gnlmn,  and  no  mis- 
take ;  he  got  his  allowents  of  nothink  a-year,  and  spent 
it  in  the  most  honrabble  and  fashnabble  manner.  He 
kep  a  kab — he  went  to  Holmax — and  Crockfud's — he 
moved  in  the  most  xquizzit  suckles — and  trubbld  the 
law  boox  very  httle,  I  can  tell  you.  Those  fashnabble 
gents  have  ways  of  getten  money,  witch  comman  pipple 
doant  understand. 

Though  he  only  had  a  therd  floar  in  Pump  Cort, 
he  lived  as  if  he  had  the  welth  of  Cresas.  The  tenpun 
notes  floo  abowt  as  common  as  haypince — clarrit  and 
shampang  was  at  his  house  as  vulgar  as  gin  ;  and  verry 
glad  I  was,  to  be  sure,  to  be  a  valley  to  a  zion  of  the 
nobillaty. 

Deuceace  had,  in  his  sittin-room,  a  large  pictur  on  a 
sheet  of  paper.  The  names  of  his  family  was  wrote  on 
it ;  it  was  wi*ote  in  the  shape  of  a  tree,  a  gi-oin  out  of  a 
man-in-armer's  stomick,  and  the  names  were  on  little 
plates  among  the  bows.  The  pictur  said  that  the  Deu- 
ceaces  kem  into  England  in  the  year  1066,  along  with 
William  Conqueruns.  My  master  called  it  his  pody- 
gi-ee.  I  do  bleev  it  was  because  he  had  this  pictm*,  and 
because  he  was  the  Hcmrahhle  Deuceace,  that  he  man- 
nitched  to  live  as  he  did.  If  he  had  been  a  common 
man,  you'd  have  said  he  was  no  better  than  a  swinler. 
It's  only  rank  and  buth  that  can  wan-ant  such  singulari- 
ties as  my  master  show'd.  For  it's  no  use  disgj^sing  it — 
the  Honrabble  Halgernon  was  a  gambler.  For  a  man 
of  wulgar  family,  it's  the  wust  trade  that  can  be — for  a 
man  of  common  feelinx  of  honesty,  this  profession  is 


MR.    DEUCE  ACE.  37 


quite  iinposbill ;  but  for  a  real  thorough-bread  genlmn, 
it's  the  esiest  and  most  prophetable  line  he  can  take. 

It  may,  praps,  appear  curous  that  such  a  fashnabble 
man  should  Hve  in  the  Temple ;  but  it  must  be  reck- 
lected,  that  its  not  only  lawyers  who  live  in  what's  call- 
ed the  Ins  of  Cort.  Many  batchylers,  who  have  nothink 
to  do  with  lor,  have  here  their  loginx ;  and  many  sham 
barrysters,  who  never  put  on  a  wig  and  gownd  twise  in 
theu'  hves,  kip  apartments  in  the  Temple,  instead  of 
Bon  Street,  Pickledilly,  or  other  fashnabble  places. 

Frinstance,  on  our  stairkis  (so  these  houses  are  call- 
ed), there  was  8  sets  of  chamberses,  and  only  3  lawyers. 
These  was,  bottom  floor,  Screwson,  Hewson,  and  Jew- 
son,  attorneys ;  fust  floor,  Mr.  Sergeant  Flabber — opsite, 
Mr.  Counslor  BruSy ;  and  secknd  pair,  Mr,  Hagger- 
stony,  an  Irish  counslor,  praktising  at  the  Old  Baly,  and 
Hckr^Tse  what  they  call  reporter  to  the  Morning  Post 
nyouspapper.     Opsite  him  was  wrote 

Mr.  Richard  Blewitt; 
and  on  the  thud  floar,  -with  my  master,  Uved  one  Mr. 
Dawkins. 

This  young  fellow  was  a  new  comer  into  the  Tem- 
ple, and  unlucky  it  was  for  him  too — he'd  better  have 
never  been  born  ;  for  its  my  fii-m  apinion  that  the  Tem- 
ple ruined  him — that  is,  with  the  help  of  my  master 
and  Mr.  Dick  Blewitt,  as  you  shall  hear. 

Mr.  Dawkins,  as  I  was  gave  to  understand  by  his 
young  man,  had  jest  left  the  Universary  of  Oxford,  and 
had  a  pretty  little  fortn  of  his  own — six  thousand 
pound,  or  so — in  the  stox.  He  was  jest  of  age,  an  or 
fin  who  had  lost  his  father  and  mother ;  and  ha^Tag 
distinkrsvished  hisself  at  coUitch,  where  he  gained  seff- 


38  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

ral  prices,  was  come  to  town  to  push  his  fortn,  and 
study  the  bariyster's  bisness. 

Not  bein  of  a  verry  high  famm^y  hisself — indeed, 
I've  heard  say  his  father  was  a  chismonger,  or  some- 
think  of  that  lo  sort — DawMns  was  glad  to  find  his  old 
Oxford  frend,  Mr.  Blewitt,  yonger  son  to  rich  Squire 
Blewitt,  of  Listershire,  and  to  take  rooms  so  sear  him. 

Now,  tho'  there  was  a  considdrabble  intimacy  be- 
tween me  and  Mr.  Blewitt's  gentleman,  there  was 
scarcely  any  betwixt  our  masters, — mine  being  too 
much  of  the  aristoxy  to  associate  with  one  of  Mr. 
Blewitt's  sort.  Blewitt  was  what  they  call  a  bettin 
man ;  he  went  reglar  to  Tattlesall's,  kep  a  pony,  wore  a 
white  hat,  a  blue  berd's-eye  hankercher,  and  a  cut- 
aAvay  coat.  In  his  manners  he  was  the  very  contrary 
of  my  master,  who  was  a  slim,  ellygant  man,  as  ever 
I  see — he  had  very  white  hands,  rayther  a  sallow  face, 
with  sharp  dark  ise,  and  small  wiskus  neatly  trimmed, 
and  as  black  as  "Warren's  jet — he  spoke  very  low  and 
soft — ^he  seemed  to  be  watchin  the  person  with  whom 
he  was  in  convysation,  and  always  flatterd  every  body. 
As  for  Blemtt,  he  was  quite  of  another  sort.  He  was 
always  swearin,  singing,  and  slappin  people  on  the  back, 
as  hearty  as  posbill.  He  seemed  a  meiTy,  careless, 
honest  cretur,  whom  one  would  trust  with  life  and  soul. 
So  thought  Dawkins,  at  least ;  who,  though  a  quiet  young 
man,  fond  of  his  boox,  nowles,  Byron's  poems,  floot-play- 
ing,  and  such  like  scientafic  amusemints,  grew  hand  in 
glove  with  honest  Dick  Blewitt,  and  soon  after  with  my 
master,  the  Honrabble  Halgernon.  Poor  Daw !  he 
thought  he  was  makin  good  connexions,  and  real  fiends 


MR.    DEUCE  ACE.  39 


— he  had  fallen  in  with  a  couple  of  the  most  etrocious 
swinlers  that  ever  Hved. 

Before  Mr.  DawMns's  arrivial  in  our  house,  Mr- 
Deuceace  had  barely  condysended  to  speak  to  Mr* 
Blewitt :  it  was  only  about  a  month  after  that  suckum- 
stance  that  my  master,  all  of  a  sudding,  gi-ew  very 
fiiendly  with  him.  The  reason  was  pretty  clear, — Deuce- 
ace wanted  him.  Dawkins  had  not  been  an  hour  in 
master's  company  before  he  knew  that  he  had  a  pidgin 
to  pluck. 

Blewitt  knew  this  too ;  and  bein  very  fond  of  pidgin, 
intended  to  keep  this  one  entirely  to  himself.  It  was 
amusia  to  see  the  Honrabble  Halgernon  manuvi-mg  to 
get  this  pore  bhd  out  of  Blewitt's  clause,  who  thought 
he  had  it  safe.  In  fact,  he'd  brought  DawMns  to  these 
chambers  for  that  very  j^orpus,  thinking  to  have  him 
under  his  eye,  and  strip  him  at  leism-e. 

My  master  very  soon  found  out  what  was  Mr. 
Blewitt's  game.  Gamblers  know  gamblei^s,  if  not  by 
instink,  at  least  by  reputation  ;  and  though  Mr.  Blewitt 
moved  in  a  much  lower  spear  than  Mr.  Deuceace,  they 
knew  each  other's  deahns  and  caracters  pufflckly  well. 

"  Charles,  you  scoundrel,"  says  Deuceace  to  me  one 
day  (he  always  spoak  in  that  kind  way),  "  who  is  this 
person  that  has  taken  the  opsit  chambers,  and  plays  the 
flute  so  industrusly  V 

"  It's  Mr.  Dawkins,  a  rich  young  gentleman  from 
Oxford,  and  a  great  friend  of  Mr.  Blewittses,  sir,"  says  I, 
"  they  seem  to  hve  in  each  other's  rooms." 

Master  said  nothink,  but  he  grirCcl — my  eye,  how  he 
did  gi'in !  Not  the  fowl  find  himself  could  snear  more 
satannickly. 


40  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

I  knew  what  he  meant : 

Imprimish.  A  man  who  plays  the  floot  is  a  sim- 
pleton. 

Secknly.     Mr.  Blewitt  is  a  raskle. 

Thirdmo.  When  a  rasMe  and  a  simpleton  is  al- 
ways together,  and  when  the  simpleton  is  rich^  one 
knows  pretty  well  what  will  come  of  it. 

I  was  but  a  lad  in  them  days,  but  I  knew  what  was 
what  as  well  as  my  master;  it's  not  gentlemen  only 
that's  up  to  snough.  Law  bless  us !  there  was  four  of 
us  on  this  stairkes,  four  as  nice  young  men  as  you  ever 
see;  Mr.  Brufiy's  young  man,  Mr.  Dawkinses,  Mr. 
Blewitt's,  and  me — and  we  knew  what  our  masters  was 
about  as  well  as  they  did  theirselfs.  Frinstance,  I  can 
say  this  for  myself,  there  wasn't  a  paper  in  Deuceace's 
desk  or  drawer,  not  a  bill,  a  note,  or  mimerandum,  which 
I  hadn't  read  as  well  as  he :  with  Blewitt's  it  was  the 
same — me  and  his  young  man  used  to  read  'em  all. 
There  wasn't  a  bottle  of  wine  that  we  didn't  get  a  glas, 
nor  a  pound  of  sugar  that  we  didn't  have  some  lumps 
of  it.  We  had  keys  to  all  the  cubbards — we  pipped 
into  all  the  letters  that  kem  and  went — we  pored  over 
all  the  bill-files — we'd  the  best  pickens  out  of  the  din- 
ners, the  liwers  of  the  fowls,  the  force-mit  balls  out  of 
the  soup,  the  egs  from  the  sallit.  As  for  the  coals  and 
candles,  we  left  them  to  the  landrisses.  You  may  call 
this  robry — nonsuice — it's  only  our  rights — a  suwant's 
purquizzits  is  as  sacred  as  the  laws  of  Hengland. 

Well,  the  long  and  short  of  it  is  this.  Richard 
Blewitt,  esquire,  was  sityouated  as  follows  :  He'd  an  in- 
kum  of  three  hunderd  a-year  from  his  father.  Out  of 
this  he  had  to  pay  one  hunderd  and  ninety  for  money 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  41 


borrowed  by  him  at  collidge,  seventy  for  chambers, 
seventy  more  for  bis  boss,  aty  for  bis  suvvant  on  bord 
wagis,  and  about  three  himderd  and  fifty  for  a  sepprat 
establishmint  in  the  Regency  Park ;  besides  this,  his 
pocMt  money,  say  a  himderd,  his  eatin,  drinkin,  and 
wine-marchant's  bill,  about  two  hunderd  moar.  So  that 
you  see  he  laid  by  a  pretty  handsome  sum  at  the  end 
of  the  year. 

My  master  was  diflfrent ;  and  being  a  more  fashnab- 
ble  man  than  Mr.  B.,  in  course  he  owed  a  deal  more 
money.     There  was  fust : 

Account  contray,  at  Crockford's   .         .  £3711     0     0 
Bills  of  xchange  and  I.  O.  U.'s  (but  he 

didn't  pay  these  in  most  cases) 
21  tailor's  bills,  in  all 
3  hossdealer's  do.     . 
2  coachbilder       .... 
Bills  contracted  at  Cambritch 
Sundries       ..... 


I  give  this  as  a  curosity — pipple  doant  know  how  in 
many  cases  fashnabble  life  is  carried  on  ;  and  to  know 
even  what  a  real  gnlmn  oives  is  somethink  instructif 
and  agreeable. 

But  to  my  tail.  The  very  day  after  my  master  had 
made  the  inquiries  concerning  Mr.  Dawkins,  witch  I 
mentioned  aheady,  he  met  Mr.  Blewitt  on  the  stairs ; 
and  byoutiffle  it  was  to  see  how  this  gnlman,  who  had 
before  been  almost  cut  by  my  master,  was  now  received 
by  him.  One  of  the  sweatest  smiles  I  ever  saw  was 
now  vizzable  on  Mr.  Deuceace's  countenance.  He  held 
out  his  hand,  covered  with  a  white  kid  glove,  and  said, 


4963 

0 

0 

1306 

11 

9 

402 

0 

0 

506 

0 

0 

2193 

6 

8 

987 

10 

0 

£14069 

8 

5 

42  THE    YELLOWPLUSH   PAPERS. 


in  the  most  frenly  tone  of  ^dce  posbill,  "  What  ?  Mr. 
Blewitt  ?  It  is  an  age  since  we  met.  What  a  shame  that 
such  near  naybors  should  see  each  other  so  seldom !" 

Mr.  Blewitt,  who  was  standing  at  his  door,  in  a  pe- 
green  dressing-gown,  smoakin  a  segar,  and  singin  a 
hunting  coarus,  looked  surprised,  flattered,  and  then 
suspicious. 

"  Why,  yes,"  says  he,  "  it  is,  Mr.  Deuc«ace,  a  long 
time." 

"Not,  I  think,  since  we  dined  at  Sir  George 
Hookey's.  By  the  by,  what  an  evening  that  was— 
hay,  Mr.  Blewitt  ?  what  wine !  what  capital  songs  !  I 
recollect  your  '  May-day  in  the  morning'— cuss  me,  the 
best  comick  song  I  ever  heard.  I  was  speaking  to  the 
Duke  of  Doncaster  about  it  only  yesterday.  You  know 
the  duke,  I  think." 

Mr.  Blewitt  said,  quite  surly,  "  No,  I  don't." 

"  Not  know  him !"  cries  master ;  "  why,  hang  it, 
Ble^vitt !  he  knows  you^  as  every  sporting  man  in  Eng- 
land does,  I  should  think.  Why,  man,  your  good  things 
are  in  everybody's  mouth  at  Newmarket." 

And  so  master  went  on  chaffin  Mr.  Blewitt.  That 
genlmn  at  fust  answered  him  quite  short  and  angry; 
but,  after  a  little  more  flumery,  he  grew  as  pleased  as 
posbill,  took  in  all  Deuceace's  flatry,  and  bleev^ed  aU  his 
lies.  At  last  the  door  shut,  and  they  both  went  in  to 
Mr.  Blewilt's  chambers  together. 

Of  course  I  can't  say  what  past  there ;  but  in  an 
horn*  master  kem  up  to  his  own  room  as  yaller  as  mus- 
tard, and  smellin  sadly  of  backo  smoke.  I  never  see  any 
genlmn  more  sick  than  he  was ;  he'd  been  smoakin  sea- 
gars  along  with  Blewitt.    I  said  nothink,  in  course,  tho* 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  43 


I'd  often  heard  him  xpress  his  hoiTOw  of  backo,  and 
knew  very  well  he  would  as  soon  swallow  pizon  as 
smoke.  But  he  wasn't  a  chap  to  do  a  thing  without  a 
reason  :  if  he'd  been  smoakin,  I  warrant  he  had  smoked 
to  some  porpus. 

I  didn't  hear  the  convysation  between  'em ;  but  Mr. 
Blewitt's  man  did  :  it  was, — "  Well,  Mr.  Blewitt,  what 
capital  seagars  !  Have  you  one  for  a  friend  to  smoak  ?" 
(The  old  fox,  it  wasn't  only  the  seagars  he  was  a  smoak- 
in !)  "  Walk  in,"  says  Mr.  Blewitt ;  and  they  began  a 
chaffin  together ;  master  very  ankshous  about  the  youno- 
gintleman  who  had  come  to  live  in  our  chambers,  Mr. 
DawMns,  and  always  coming  back  to  that  subject, — 
sayin  that  people  on  the  same  stairkis  ot  to  be  frenly ; 
how  glad  he'd  be,  for  his  part,  to  know  Mr.  Dick  Blew- 
itt, and  any  friend  of  his,  and  so  on.  Mr.  Dick,  how- 
sever,  seamed  quite  aware  of  the  trap  laid  for  him.  "  I 
really  don't  no  this  Dawkins,"  says  he :  "  he's  a  chis- 
monger's  son,  I  hear ;  and  tho'  I've  exchanged  visits 
with  him,  I  doant  intend  to  continyou  the  acquaintance, 
— not  wishin  to  assoshate  with  that  kind  of  pipple." 
So  they  went  on,  master  fishin,  and  Mr.  Blewitt  not 
wishin  to  take  the  hook  at  no  price. 

"  Confound  the  vulgar  thief !"  muttard  my  master, 
as  he  was  laying  on  his  sophy,  after  being  so  very  ill ; 
"  I've  poisoned  myself  with  his  infernal  tobacco,  and  he 
has  foiled  me.  The  cm*sed  swindlinq;  boor !  he  thinks 
he'll  ruin  this  poor  cheesemonger,  does  he  ?  I'll  stejj  in, 
and  warn  him." 

I  thought  I  should  bust  a  laflSn,  when  he  talked  in 
this  style.  I  knew  very  weU  what  his  "  warning"  meant, 
— lockin  the  stable-door,  but  stealin  the  hoss  fiist. 


44  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

Next  day,  his  strattygam  for  becoming  acquainted 
with  Mr.  Dawkins,  we  exicuted,  and  very  pritty  it  was. 

Besides  potry  and  the  floot,  Mr.  Dawkins,  I  must 
tell  you,  had  some  other  parshalhties — wiz.,  he  was  very 
fond  of  good  eatin  and  drinkin.  After  doddhng  over 
his  music  and  boox  all  day,  this  young  genlmn  used  to 
sally  out  of  evenings,  dine  sumptiously  at  a  tavern, 
drinkin  all  sots  of  wine  along  with  his  friend  Mr.  Blew- 
itt.  He  was  a  quiet  young  fellow  enough  at  fust ;  but 
it  was  Mr.  B.  who  (for  his  own  porpuses,  no  doubt,)  had 
got  him  into  this  kind  of  life.  Well,  I  needn't  say  that 
he  who  eats  a  fine  dinner,  and  drinks  too  much  over- 
night, wants  a  bottle  of  soda-water,  and  a  gril,  praps, 
in  the  morning*.  Such  was  Mr.  Dawkinses  case ;  and 
reglar  almost  as  twelve  o'clock  came,  the  waiter  from 
Dix  Coffy-House  was  to  be  seen  on  our  stairkis,  bringing 
up  Mr.  D.'s  hot  breakfast. 

No  man  would  have  thought  there  was  anythink  in 
such  a  trifling  circkumstance  ;  master  did,  though,  and 
pounced  upon  it  like  a  cock  on  a  barlycorn. 

He  sent  me  out  to  Mr.  Morell's  in  Pickledilly,  foi 
wot's  called  a  Strasbug-pie — in  French,  a  '■'' patty  defaw 
grawV  He  takes  a  card,  and  nails  it  on  the  outside  case 
(patty  defaw  graws  come  generally  in  a  round  wooden 
box,  like  a  drumb) ;  and  what  do  you  think  he  writes 
on  it  ?  why,  as  folios  : — "  For  the  Hcmourahle  Algernon 
Percy  Deuceace^  &c.  <kc.  &c.  With  Prince  Talleyrand's 
compliments.''^ 

Prince  Tallyram's  complimints,  indeed  !  I  laff  when 
I  think  of  it  still,  the  old  surpint !  He  was  a  sm-pint, 
that  Deuceace,  and  no  mistake. 

Well,  by  a  most  extrornary  piece  of  ill-luck,  the  nex 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  45 


day  punctially  as  Mr.  Dawkinses  brexfas  was  coming  up 
the  stairs,  Mr.  Halgernon  Percy  Deuceace  was  going  dovm. 
He  was  as  gay  as  a  lark,  humming  an  Oppra  tune,  and 
twizzting  round  his  head  his  hevy  gold-headed  cane. 
Down  he  went  very  fast,  and  by  a  most  unlucky  axdent 
struck  his  cane  against  the  waiter's  tray,  and  away  went 
Mr.  Dawkinses  gril,  kayann,  kitchup,  soda-water,  and 
all !  I  can't  think  how  my  master  should  have  choas 
such  an  exact  time ;  to  be  sure,  his  windo  looked  upon 
the  cort,  and  he  could  see  every  one  who  came  into  our 
door. 

As  soon  as  the  axdent  had  took  place,  master  was 
in  such  a  rage  as,  to  be  sure,  no  man  ever  was  in  befor ; 
he  swoar  at  the  waiter  in  the  most  dreddfle  way ;  he 
threatened  him  with  his  stick,  and  it  was  only  when  he 
see  that  the  waiter  was  rayther  a  bigger  man  than  his 
self  that  he  was  in  the  least  pazzyfied.  He  returned  to 
his  own  chambres ;  and  John,  the  waiter,  went  off  for 
more  grill  to  Dixes  Coffy-House. 

"  This  is  a  most  unlucky  axdent,  to  be  sure,  Charles," 
says  master  to  me,  after  a  few  minnits  paws,  during 
which  he  had  been  and  wrote  a  note,  put  it  into  an  an- 
velope,  and  sealed  it  with  his  bigg  seal  of  arms.  "  But 
stay — a  thought  strikes  me — take  this  note  to  Mr.  Daw- 
kins,  and  that  pye  ycu  brought  yesterday ;  and  hearkye, 
you  scoundrel,  if  yoik  jay  where  you  got  it  I  will  break 
every  bone  in  your  skin  !" 

These  kind  of  prommises  were  among  the  few  which 
I  knew  him  to  keep :  and  as  I  loved  boath  my  skinn 
and  my  boahs,  I  carried  the  noat,  and,  of  cors,  said  no- 
think.  Waiting  in  Mr.  Dawkinses  chambus  for  a  few 
minnits,  I  returned  to  my  master  with  an  anser.    I  may 


46  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

as  well  give  both  of  these  documence,  of  which  I  happen 
to  have  taken  coppies. 

I. 

"  The  Hon.  A.  P.  Deuceace  to  T.  S.  Dawkins,  Esq. 

"  Temple,  Tuesday. 

"Mr.  Deuceace  presents  his  compliments  to  Mr. 
Dawkins,  and  begs  at  the  same  time  to  offer  his  most 
sincere  apologies  and  regrets  for  the  accident  which  has 
just  taken  place. 

"  May  Mr.  Deuceace  be  allowed  to  take  a  neigh- 
bour's privilege,  and  to  remedy  the  evil  he  has  occa- 
sioned to  the  best  of  his  power  ?  K  Mr.  Dawkins  will 
do  him  the  favour  to  partake  of  the  contents  of  the  ac- 
companying case  (from  Strasburg  dhect,  and  the  gift  of 
a  friend,  on  whose  taste  as  a  gourmand  Mr.  Dawkins 
may  rely),  perhaps  he  will  find  that  it  is  not  a  bad  sub- 
stitute for  the  plat  which  Mr.  Deuceace's  awkwardness 
destroyed. 

"It  will,  also,  Mr.  Deuceace  is  sure,  be  no  small 
gratification  to  the  original  donor  of  the  pdt^^  when  he 
learns  that  it  has  fallen  into  the  hands  of  so  celebrated 
a  hon  vivant  as  Mr.  Dawkins. 

''T.  S  Dawkins,  Esq.,  &c.  <hc.  dx." 


II. 

"  From  T.  S.  Dawkins,  Esq.,  to  the  Hon.  A.  P. 

Deuceace. 

■"  Mr.  Thomas  Smith  Dawkins  presents  his  gratefiil 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  47 


compliments  to  the  Hon.  Mr.  Denceace,  and  accepts 
with  the  greatest  plea?iu-e  Mr.  Deuceace's  generous 
proffer. 

"  It  would  be  one  of  the  happiest  moments  of  Mr. 
Smith  DawMns's  life,  if  the  Hon.  ^Ir.  Deuceace  would 
extend  his  generosity  still  further,  and  condescend  to 
partake  of  the  repast  which  his  munificent  politeness 
has  fiu'nished. 

"Temple,  Tuesday." 

Many  and  many  a  time,  I  say,  have  I  grind  over 
these  letters,  which  I  had  wrote  from  the  original  by 
Mr.  Bruffy's  copyin  dark.  Deuceace's  flam  about  Prince 
TalhTam  was  puffickly  successfid.  I  saw  young  Daw- 
Idns  blush  with  dehte  as  he  red  the  note ;  he  toar  up 
f  jr  or  five  sheets  before  he  composed  the  answer  to  it, 
which  was  as  you  red  abuff,  and  roat  in  a  hand  quite 
trembhng  with  pleasyer.  If  you  could  but  have  seen 
the  look  of  triumph  in  Deuceace's  ^\icked  black  eyes, 
when  he  read  the  noat !  I  never  see  a  deamin  yet,  but 
I  can  phansy  1,  a  holding  a  writhing  soal  on  his  pitch- 
frock,  and  smilin  like  Deuceace.  He  dressed  himself  in 
his  very  best  clothes,  and  in  he  went,  after  sending  me 
over  to  say  that  he  would  xcept  with  pleasyour  Mr. 
DawMns's  invite. 

The  pie  was  cut  up,  and  a  most  frenly  conversation 
beo-un  betwixt  the  two  genlmin.  Deuceace  was  quite 
captivating.  He  spoke  to  Mr.  Dawkins  in  the  most 
respeckful  and  flatrin  manner, — agread  in  every  think  he 
said, — prazed  his  taste,  his  fumiter,  his  coat,  his  classick 
noUedge,  and  his  playin  on  the  floot ;  you'd  have  thought, 
to  hear  him,  that  such  a  polygon  of  exlens  as  D?  rkins 


48  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

did  not  breath, — that  such  a  modist,  sinsear,  honrabble 
genlmn  as  Deuceace  was  to  be  seen  no  where  xcept  in 
Pump  Cort.  Poor  Daw  was  complitly  taken  in.  My 
master  said  he'd  introduce  him  to  the  Duke  of  Doncaster, 
and  Heaven  knows  how  many  nobs  more,  till  Dawkins 
was  quite  intawsicated  with  pleasyour.  I  know  as  a 
fac  (and  it  pretty  well  shows  the  young  genlmn's  carry- 
ter),  that  he  went  that  very  day  and  ordered  2  new 
coats,  on  porpos  to  be  introjuiced  to  the  lords  in. 

But  the  best  joak  of  all  was  at  last.  Singin,  swag- 
rin,  and  swarink — up  stares  came  Mr.  Dick  Blewitt. 
He  flung  open  Mr.  Dawkins's  door,  shouting  out,  "  Daw, 
my  old  buck,  how  are  you  ?"  when,  all  of  a  sudden,  he 
sees  Mr.  Deuceace:  his  jor  dropt,  he  turned  chocky 
white,  and  then  burnin  red,  and  looked  as  if  a  stror 
would  knock  him  down.  "  My  dear  Mr.  Blewitt,"  says 
my  master,  smilin,  and  oflfring  his  hand,  "  how  glad  I ' 
am  to  see  you.  Mr.  Dawkins  and  I  were  just  talking 
about  your  pony !     Pray  sit  down." 

Blewitt  did ;  and  now  was  the  question,  who  should 
sit  the  other  out ;  but,  law  bless  you !  Mr.  Blewitt  was 
no  match  for  my  master ;  all  the  time  he  was  fidgetty, 
silent,  and  sulky ;  on  the  contry,  master  was  charmin. 
I  never  herd  such  a  flo  of  conversatin,  or  so  many  wit- 
tacisms  as  he  uttered.  At  last,  completely  beat,  Mr. 
Blewitt  took  his  leaf;  that  instant  master  followed  him ; 
and  passin  his  arm  through  that  of  Mr.  Dick,  led  him 
into  our  chambers,  and  began  talkin  to  him  in  the  most 
affabl  and  afFeckshnat  manner. 

But  Dick  was  too  angry  to  listen ;  at  last,  when 
master  was  telling  him  some  long  story  about  the  Duke 
of  Dancaster,  Blewitt  burst  out — 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  49 


"  A  plague  on  the  Duke  of  Doncaster !  Come,  come, 
Mr.  Deuceace,  don't  you  be  running  your  rigs  upon  me ; 
I  an't  the  man  to  be  bamboozl'd  by  long-winded  stories 
about  dukes  and  duchesses.  You  think  I  don't  know 
you ;  every  man  knows  you,  and  your  hne  of  country. 
Yes,  you're  after  young  Dawkins  there,  and  think  to 

pluck  him  ;  but  you  shan't, — no,  by you  shant." 

(The  reader  must  recklect  that  the  oaths  which  inter- 
spussd  Mr.  B's  convysation  I  have  lift  out.)  Well,  after 
he'd  fired  a  wolley  of  em,  Mr.  Deuceace  spoke  as  cool 
and  slow  as  possbill. 

"  Heark  ye,  Blewitt.  I  know  you  to  be  one  of  the 
most  infernal  thieves  and  scoundi-els  unhung.  If  you 
attempt  to  hector  with  me,  I  will  cane  you ;  if  you  want 
more,  I'll  shoot  you ;  if  you  meddle  between  me  and 
Dawkins,  I  wdll  do  both.  I  know  your  whole  life,  you 
miserable  s^vindler  and  coward.  I  know  you  have 
already  won  two-hundred  pounds  of  this  lad,  and  want 
all.  I  will  have  half,  or  you  never  shall  have  a  penny." 
It's  quite  true  that  master  knew  things ;  but  how  was 
the  wonder. 

I  couldn't  see  Mr.  B's.  face  during  this  dialogue, 
bein  on  the  wrong  side  of  the  door ;  but  there  was  a 
considdrabble  paws  after  thuse  complymints  had  passed 
between  the  two  genlmn, — one  walkin  quickly  up  and 
down  the  room, — tother,  angry  and  stupid,  sittin  down, 
and  stampin  with  his  foot. 

"  Now  listen  to  this,  Mr.  Blewitt,"  continues  master 
at  last ;  "  if  you're  quiet,  you  shall  half  this  fellow's 
money :  but  venture  to  win  a  shilling  from  him  in  my 
absence,  or  without  my  consent,  and  you  do  it  at  your 
peril." 


50  THE  'yELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

"  Well,  well,  Mr.  Deuceace,"  cries  Dick,  "  it's  very 
hard,  and,  I  must  say,  not  fair :  the  game  was  of  my 
startin,  and  you've  no  right  to  interfere  with  my  friend." 

"  Mr.  Blewitt,  you  are  a  fool !  You  professed  yes- 
terday not  to  know  this  man,  and  I  was  obhged  to  find 
him  out  for  myself.  I  should  like  to  know  by  what 
law  of  honour  I  am  bound  to  give  him  up  to  you  ?" 

It  was  charmin  to  hear  this  pair  of  raskles  talkin 
about  honour.  I  declare  I  could  have  found  it  in  my 
heart  to  warn  young  Dawkins  of  the  precious  way  in 
which  these  chaps  were  going  to  serve  him.  But  if 
they  didn't  know  what  honour  was,  /  did ;  and  never, 
never  did  I  tell  tails  about  my  masters  when  in  their  sar- 
vice — out,  in  cors,  the  hobligation  is  no  longer  binding. 

Well,  the  nex  day  there  was  a  gran  dinner  at  our 
chambers.  White  soop,  turbit,  and  lobstir  sos ;  saddil 
of  Scoch  muttn,  grous,  and  M'Ai'ony ;  wines,  shampang, 
hock,  maderia,  a  bottle  of  poart,  and  ever  so  many  of 
clarrit.  The  compny  presint  was  three ;  wiz.,  the  Hon- 
rabble  A.  P.  Deuceace,  R.  Blewitt,  and  Mr.  Dawkins, 
Exquires.  My  i,  how  we  genlmn  in  the  kitchin  did 
enjy  it.  Mr.  Ble"\vittes  man  eat  so  much  grous  (when 
it  was  brot  out  of  the  parlor),  that  I  reely  thought  he 
would  be  sik;  Mr.  Dawkinses  gnlmn  (who  was  only 
abowt  1 3  years  of  age)  grew  so  il  with  M'Arony  and 
plumb  puddn,  as  to  be  obleeged  to  take  sefral  of  Mr. 
D's.  pils,  which  ^  kild  him.  But  this  is  all  promiscu- 
ous :  I  an't  talkin  of  the  survants  now,  but  the  masters. 

Would  you  bleev  it  ?  After  dinner  and  praps  8 
bottles  of  wine  betwin  the  3)  the  genlm  sat  down  to 
hearty.  It's  a  game  where  only  2  plays,  and  where,  in 
coarse,  when  there's  ony  3,  one  looks  on. 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  51 


Fu&t,  they  playd  crown  pints,  and  a  pound  the  bett. 
At  this  game  they  were  wonderful  equill ;  and  about 
supper-time  (when  grilled  am,  more  shampang,  devld 
biskite,  and  other  things,  was  brot  in)  the  play  stood 
thus :  Mr.  Dawkins  had  won  2  pounds ;  Mr.  Blewitt, 
30  shillings  ;  the  Honrabble  Mr.  Deuceace  having  lost 
dl.  10s.  After  the  dewle  and  the  shampang  the  play 
was  a  Httle  higher.  Now  it  was  pound  pints,  and  five 
pound  the  bet.  I  thought,  to  be  sure,  after  hearing  the 
compljrments  between  Blewitt  and  master  in  the  morn- 
ing, that  now  poor  DawMns's  time  was  come. 

Not  so :  Dawkins  won  always,  Mr.  B.  betting  on 
his  play,  and  giving  him  the  very  best  of  advice.  At 
the  end  of  the  evening  (which  was  abowt  five  o'clock 
the  nex  morning)  they  stopt.  Master  was  counting  up 
the  skore  on  a  card. 

"Blewitt,"  says  he,  "I've  been  unlucky.  I  owe 
you — let  me  see — yes,  five-and-forty  pounds  ?" 

"  Five-and-forty,"  says  Blewitt,  "  and  no  mistake !" 

"I  vdW  give  you  a  cheque,"  says  the  honrabble 
genlmn. 

"  Oh  !  don't  mention  it  my  dear  Sir !"  But  mas- 
ter got  a  grate  sheet  of  paper,  and  drew  him  a  check  on 
Messeers  Pump,  Algit,  and  Co.,  his  bankers. 

"  Now,"  says  master,  "  I've  got  to  settle  ^\Tith  you, 
my  dear  Mr.  Dawkins.  If  you  had  backd  your  luck, 
I  should  have  owed  you  a  very  handsome  sum  of  mo- 
ney. Vo]/ons,  thirteen  points,  at  a  pound — it  is  easy 
to  calculate  ;"  and  drawin  out  his  puss,  he  chnked  over 
the  table  13  goolden  suverings,  which  shon  till  they 
made  mv  eves  wink. 


62  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

So  did  pore  Dawkinses,  as  lie  put  out  his  hand,  all 
trembling,  and  drew  them  in. 

"  Let  me  say,"  added  master,  "  let  me  say  (and  I've 
had  some  little  experience),  that  you  are  the  very  best 
^carU  player  with  whom  I  ever  sat  down." 

Dawkinses  eyes  glissened  as  he  put  the  money  up, 
and  said  "  Law,  Deuceace,  you  flatter  me  !" 

Flatter  him  !  I  should  think  he  did.  It  was  the 
very  thing  which  master  ment. 

"  But  mind  you,  Dawkins,"  continyoud  he,  "  I  must 
have  my  revenge  ;  for  I'm  ruined — positively  ruined — 
by  your  luck." 

"  Well,  well,"  says  Mr.  Thomas  Smith  Dawkins,  as 
pleased  as  if  he  had  gained  a  milUum,  "  shall  it  be  to- 
morrow ?    Blewitt,  what  say  you  ?" 

Mr.  Blewitt  agread,  in  course.  My  master,  after  a 
little  demurring,  consented  too.  "We'll  meet,"  says 
he,  "  at  your  chambers.  But  mind,  my  dear  fello,  not 
too  much  wine  :  I  can't  stand  it  at  any  time,  especially 
when  I  have  to  play  6cart6  with  yow." 

Pore  Dawkins  left  our  rooms  as  happy  as  a  prins. 
"  Here,  Charles,"  says  he,  and  flung  me  a  sovring.  Pore 
feUow  !  pore  fellow  !  I  knew  what  was  a  comin  ! 

But  the  best  of  it  was,  that  these  13  sovrings  which 
JJawkins  won,  master  hod  borrowed  them  from  Mr. 
Blewitt  !  I  brought  'em,  with  Y  more,  from  that  young 
genlmn's  chambers  that  very  morning :  for,  since  his 
interview  mth  master,  Blewitt  had  nothing  to  refuse 
him. 

Well,  shall  I  continue  the  tail  ?     If  Mr.  Dawkins 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  53 


had  been  the  least  bit  wiser,  it  would  have  taken  him 
six  months  befoar  he  lost  his  money ;  as  it  was,  he  was 
such  a  confounded  ninny,  that  it  took  him  a  very  short 
time  to  part  with  it. 

Nex  day  (it  was  Thursday,  and  master's  acquaint- 
ance with  Mr.  Dawkins  had  only  commenced  on  Tues- 
day), Mr.  Dawkins,  as  I  said,  gev  his  party, — dinner  at 
7.  Mr.  Blewitt  and  the  two  Mr.  D.'s  as  befoar.  Play 
begins  at  11.  This  time  I  knew  the  bisniss  was  pretty 
serious,  for  we  suwants  was  packed  oflf  to  bed  at  2  o'clock. 
On  Friday,  I  went  to  chambers — no  master — he  kem 
in  for  5  minutes  at  about  12,  made  a  httle  toilit,  order- 
ed more  devvles  and  soda-water,  and  back  again  he 
went  to  Mr.  Dawkins's. 

They  had  dinner  there  at  Y  again,  but  nobody  seam- 
ed to  eat,  for  all  the  vittles  came  out  to  us  genbnn  : 
they  had  in  more  wine  though,  and  must  have  drunk 
at  least  2  dozen  in  the  36  hours. 

At  ten  o'clock,  however,  on  Friday  night,  back  my 
master  came  to  his  chambers.  I  saw  him  as  I  never 
saw  him  before,  namly,  reglar  drunk.  He  staggered 
about  the  room,  he  danced,  he  hickipd,  he  swoar,  he 
flung  me  a  heap  of  silver,  and,  finely,  he  sunk  down  ex- 
osted  on  his  bed  ;  I  pullin  off  his  boots  and  close,  and 
makin  him  comfrabble. 

When  I  had  removed  his  garmints,  I  did  what  it's 
the  duty  of  every  servant  to  do — I  emtied  his  pocMts, 
and  looked  at  his  pockit-book  and  all  his  letters  ;  a  num- 
ber of  axdents  have  been  prevented  that  way. 

I  foimd  there,  among  a  heap  of  things,  the  following 
pretty  dockyment : 


54  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 


I.  0.  U. 

£4700. 

Thomas  Smith  DAWKmr. 

Friday, 
lQ>f.h  January. 

There  was  another  bit  of  paper  of  the  same  kind — 

"  I.  O.  U.  four  hundred  pounds,  Richard  Blewitt :"  but 

this,  in  cors,  ment  nothink. 

***** 

Nex  mornin,  at  nine,  master  was  up,  and  as  sober 
as  a  judg.  He  drest,  and  was  off  to  Mr.  Dawkins.  At 
10,  he  ordered  a  cab,  and  the  two  genlm  went  together. 

"  Where  shall  he  drive,  sir,"says  I.  u, 

"  Oh,  tell  him  to  drive  to  the  Bank." 

Pore  Dawkins  !  his  eyes  red  with  remors  and  sleep- 
liss  drunkenniss,  gave  a  shudder  and  a  sob,  as  he  sunk 
back  in  the  wehicle ;  and  they  drove  on. 

That  day  he  sold  out  every  hapny  he  was  worth, 

xcept  five  hundred  pounds. 

***** 

Abowt  12  master  had  returned,  and  Mr.  Dick  Blew- 
itt came  stridin  up  the  stairs  with  a  solium  and  import- 
ant hair. 

"  Is  your  master  at  home  ?"  says  he. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  says  I ;  and  in  he  walks.  I,  in  coars, 
with  my  ear  to  the  keyhole,  listning  with  all  my  mite 

"  Well,"  says  Blewitt,  "  we  maid  a  pretty  good  night 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  55 


of  it,  Mr.  Deuceace.     You've  settled,  I  see,  with  Daw- 
Hns." 

"  Settled !"  says  master.  "  Oh,  yes— yes— I've  set- 
tled with  him." 

"  Four  thousand  seven  hundred,  I  thmk  ?" 

"  About  that— yes." 

"  That  makes  my  share — let  me  see — two  thousand 
three  hundred  and  fifty ;  which  I'll  thank  you  to  fork 
out." 

"  Upon  my  word — why — Mr.  Blewitt,"  says  master, 
"  I  don't  really  understand  what  you  mean." 

"  You  don't  know  what  I  mean .'"  says  Blemtt,  in  an 
axent  such  as  I  never  before  heard ;  "  You  don't  know 
what  I  mean !  Did  you  not  promise  me  that  we  were 
to  go  shares  ?  Didn't  I  lend  you  twenty  sovereigns  the 
other  night  to  pay  our  losings  to  Dawkins  ?  Didn't  you 
swear,  on  your  honour  as  a  gentleman,  to  give  me  half  of 
all  that  might  be  won  in  this  affair  ?" 

*  "  Agreed,  su-,"  says  Deuceace ;  "  agreed." 

"  Well,  sir,  and  now  what  have  you  to  say  ?" 

"  Why,  thatldonH  intend  to  Jceep  my  promise  !  You 
infernal  fool  and  ninny !  do  you  suppose  I  was  labour- 
ing for  you  ?  Do  you  fancy  I  was  going  to  the  expense 
of  giving  a  dinner  to  that  jackass  yonder,  that  you  should 
profit  by  it  ?  Get  away,  sir !  Leave  the  room,  su* !  Or, 
stop — here — I  will  give  you  four  hundred  pounds — your 
own  note  of  hand,  sk,  for  that  sum,  if  you  wiU  consent 
to  forget  all  that  has  passed  between  us,  and  that  you 
have  never  known  Mr.  Algernon  Deuceace." 

I've  sean  pipple  angeiy  before  now,  but  never  any 
like  Blewitt.   He  stormed,  groaned,  helloed,  swoar!  At|| 
last,  he  fairly  began  blubbrmg ;  now  cussing  and  nash- 


66  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

ing  his  teeth,  now  praying  dear  Mr.  Deuceace  to  grant 
him  mercy. 

At  last,  master  flun^  open  the  door  (Heavn  bless  us ! 
it's  well  I  didn't  tumble,  hed  over  eels,  into  the  room  !), 
and  said,  "  Charles,  show  the  gentleman  down  stairs  I" 
My  master  looked  at  hira  quite  steddy.  Blewitt  slunk 
down,  as  misrabble  as  any  man  I  ever  see.  As  for  Daw- 
kins,  Heaven  knows  where  he  was ! 

***** 

"  Charles,"  says  my  master  to  me,  about  an  horn-  af- 
terwards, "  I'm  going  to  Paris ;  you  may  come,  too,  if 
you  please." 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  5Y 


SKBIMIXGS  FROM  "THE  DAIRY  OF 
GEORGE  IV." 

CHARLES  YELLOWPLUSH  ESQ.,  TO   OLIVER  TORKE,  ESQ. 

Dear  AYhy, — Takin  advantage  of  the  Crismiss  ho- 
lydays,  Sii-  John  and  me  (who  is  a  member  of  parly- 
ment)  had  gone  dovrn  to  our  place  in  Yorkshire  for  six 
■wicks,  to  shoot  gi'ows  and  woodcox,  and  enjoy  old  Eng- 
lish hospatalaty.  This  ugly  Canady  bisniss  unluckaly 
put  an  end  to  our  sports  in  the  country,  and  brot  us  up 
to  Buckly  Square  as  fast  as  four  posterses  could  gallip. 
When  there,  I  found  your  parcel,  containing  the  two  vol- 
lums  of  a  new  book,  witch,  as  I  have  been  away  from 
the  literary  world,  and  emphed  soly  in  athlatic  exorcises, 
have  been  laying'  neglected  in  my  pantry,  among  my 
knife-cloaths,  and  dekanters,  and  blacking-bottles,  and 
bed-room  candles,  and  things. 

This  ■s\ill,  I'm  sure,  account  for  my  delay  in  notiis- 
sing  the  work.  I  see  sefral  of  the  papers  and  magazeens 
have  been  befoarhand  with  me,  and  have  given  their 
apinions  concerning  it;  specially  the  Quotly  Revew, 
which  has  most  mussilessly  cut  to  peases  the  author  of 
this  Dairy  of  the  Times  of  George  /F.* 

*  Diaiy  illustrative   of  the  Times  of  George  the  Fourth, 


58  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

That  it's  a  woman  ^yho  wrote  it  is  evydent  from  the 
style  of  tlie  writing,  as  well  as  from  certain  proofs  in  the 
book  itself.  Most  suttnly  a  femail  wi'ote  this  Dairy  ; 
but  who  this  Dairy-maid  may  be,  I,  in  coarse,  cant  con- 
jecter :  and  indeed,  common  galliantry  forbids  me  to 
ask.  I  can  only  judge  of  the  book  itself,  which,  it  ap- 
pears to  me,  is  clearly  trenching  upon  my  ground  and 
favi-ite  subjicks,  viz.  fashnabble  life,  as  igsibited  in  the 
houses  of  the  nobility,  gentry,  and  rile  fammly. 

But  I  bare  no  mallis — infamation  is  infamation,  and 
it  doesn't  matter  where  the  infamy  comes  from ;  and 
whether  the  Dairy  be  from  that  distinguished  pen  to 
witch  it  is  ornarily  attributed — whether,  I  say,  it  comes 
from  a  lady  of  honor  to  the  late  quean,  or  a  scullion  to 
that  diffunct  majisty,  no  matter  ;  all  we  ask  is  nollidge, 
never  mind  how  we  have  it.  Nollidge,  as  our  cook  says, 
is  like  trikel-possit — its  always  good,  though  you  was  to 
drink  it  out  of  an  old  shoo. 

Well,  then,  although  this  Dairy  is  likely  searusly 
to  injur  my  pussonal  intrests,  by  fourstalling  a  deal  of 
what  I  had  to  say  in  my  private  mem  oars — though 
many,  many  guineas,  is  taken  from  my  pockit,  by  cut- 
tin  short  the  tail  of  my  narratif — though  much  that  I 
had  to  say  in  souperior  languidge,  greased  with  all  the 
ellygance  of  my  orytory,  the  benefick  of  my  classicle 
reading,  the  chawms  of  my  agreble  wit,  is  thus  abrup- 
ly  brotf  befor  the  world  by  an  inferor  genus,  neither 

interspersed  with  oviginal  Letters  from  the  late  Queen  Caro- 
line, and  from  various  other  distinguished  Persons. 

"  T6t  ou  tard,  tout  se  SQait." — Maintenon. 
In  2  vols.     London,  1838.     Henry  Colburn.  , 


"the    dairy    of    GEORGE    IV."  69 

knowing  nor  writing  English,  yet  I  say,  that  neverthe- 
less I  must  say,  what  I  am  puflSckly  prepaired  to  say, 
to  gainsay  which  no  man  can  say  a  word — yet  I  say, 
that  I  say  I  consider  this  pubHcation  welkom.  Far 
from  viewing  it  with  enfy,  I  greet  it  with  applaws  ;  be- 
cause it  increases  that  most  exlent  specious  of  nollidge, 
I  mean  "  Fashnabble  Nollidge  ;"  compayred  to  witch 
all  other  nollidge  is  nonsince — a  bag  of  goold  to  a  pare 
of  snuffers. 

Could  Lord  Broom,  on  the  Canady  question,  say 
moar  ?  or  say  what  he  had  to  say  better  ?  "We  are 
marters,  both  of  us,  to  prinsple ;  and  every  body  who 
knows  eather  knows  that  we  would  sacrafice  anythink 
rather  than  that.  Fashion  is  the  goddiss  I  adoar.  This 
delightful  work  is  an  oflfring  on  her  srine  ;  and  as  sich 
all  her  wushippers  are  bound  to  hail  it.  Here  is  not  a 
question  of  trumpry  lords  and  honrabbles,  generals  and 
barronites,  but  the  crown  itself,  and  the  king  and 
queen's  actions  ;  witch  may  be  considered  as  the  crown 
jewels.  Here's  princes,  and  grand-dukes  and  airspar- 
ent,  and  Heaven  knows  what ;  all  with  blood-royal  in 
their  veins,  and  their  names  mentioned  in  the  very  fust 
page  of  the  peeridge.  In  this  book  you  become  so  int- 
mate  with  the  Prince  of  Wales,  that  you  may  follow 
him,  if  you  please,  to  his  marridge-bed  ;  or,  if  you  pre- 
fer the  Princiss  Charlotte,  you  may  have  with  her  an 
hour's  tator-tator.* 

Now,  though  most  of  the  remarkable  extrax  from 
this  book  have  been  given  already  (the  cream  of  the 


*  Our  estimable  correspondent  means,  we  presume,  tete-d- 
<^^<?.— 0.  Y. 


60  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

Dairy,  as  I  wittily  say),  I  shall  trouble  you,  neverthe- 
less, with  a  few ;  partly  because  they  can't  be  repeated 
too  often,  and  because  the  toan  of  obsyvation  with  witch 
they  have  been  genrally  received  by  the  press,  is  not 
igsackly  such  as  I  think  they  merit.  How,  indeed,  can 
these  common  magaseen  and  newspaper  pipple  know 
anythink  of  fashnabble  life,  let  alone  ryal  ? 

Conseaving,  then,  that  the  publication  of  the  Dairy 
has  done  reel  good  on  this  scoar,  and  may  probly  do  a 
deal  moor,  I  shall  look  through  it,  for  the  porpus  of  se- 
lecting the  most  ellygant  passidges,  and  which  I  think 
may  be  peculiarly  adapted  to  the  reader's  benefick. 

For  you  see,  my  dear  Mr.  Yorke,  that  in  the  fust 
place,  that  this  is  no  common  catchpny  book,  like  that 
of  most  authors  and  authoresses  who  write  for  the  base 
looker  of  gain.  Heaven  bless  you  !  the  Daiiy-maid  is 
above  any  thing  musnary.  She  is  a  woman  of  rank, 
and  no  mistake  ;  and  is  as  much  above  doin  a  common 
or  vulgar  action  as  I  am  supearor  to  taking  beer  after 
dinner  with  my  cheese;  She  proves  that  most  satisfac- 
karily,  as  we  see  in  the  following  passidge  : — 

"Her  royal  highness  came  to  me,  and,  having  spoken  a 
few  phrases  on  different  subjects,  produced  all  the  papers  she 
wishes  to  have  published: — ^her  whole  correspondence  with 

the  prince  relative  to  Lady  J 's  dismissal ;  his  subsequent 

neglect  of  the  princess ;  and,  finally,  the  acquittal  of  her  sup- 
posed guilt,  signed  by  the  Duke  of  Portland,  &c.,  at  the  time 
of  the  secret  inquiry :  when,  if  proof  could  have  been  brought 
against  her,  it  certainly  would  have  been  done  ;  and  which  ac- 
quittal, to  the  disgrace  of  all  parties  concerned,  as  well  as  to 
the  justice  of  the  nation  in  general,  was  not  made  public  at  the 
time.  A  common  criminal  is  publicly  condemned  or  acquitted. 
Her  royal  highness  commanded  me  to  have  these  letters  pub- 


61 

lished  forthwith,  saving,  '  You  mar  sell  them  for  a  great  sum.' 
At  first  (for  she  had  spoken  to  me  before  concerning  this  busi- 
ness), I  thought  of  ayailing  mjseK  of  the  opportunity ;  but, 
upon  second  thoughts,  I  turned  from  this  idea  with  detesta- 
tion :  for,  if  I  do  wrong  by  obeying  her  wishes  and  endeavour- 
ing to  serve  her,  I  will  do  so  at  least  from  good  and  disinter- 
ested motives,  not  from  any  sordid  views.  The  princess  com- 
mands me,  and  I  will  obey  her,  whatever  may  be  the  issue ; 
but  not  for  fare  or  fee.  I  own  I  tremble,  not  so  much  for 
myself  as  for  the  idea  that  she  is  not  taking  the  best  and 
most  dignified  way  of  having  these  papers  published.  "Why 
make  a  secret  of  it  at  all  ?  K  wrong,  it  should  not  be  done  ; 
if  right,  it  should  be  done  openly,  and  in  the  face  of  her  ene- 
mies. In  her  royal  highness's  case,  as  in  that  of  wronged 
princes  in  general,  why  do  they  shrink  from  straightforward 
dealings,  and  rather  have  recourse  to  crooked  policy  ?  I  wish, 
in  this  particular  instance,  I  could  make  her  royal  highness 
feel  thus :  but  she  is  naturally  indignant  at  being  falsely  ac- 
cused, and  will  not  condescend  to  an  avowed  explanation.' " 

Can  anvthino-  be  more  iust  and  honrabble  tlian 
this  ?  The  Dairy-lady  is  quite  fair  and  abovebored. 
A  clear  stage,  says  she,  and  no  faviour  1  "  I  won't  do  be- 
hind my  back  what  I  am  ashamed  of  before  my  face : 
not  1 1"  No  more  she  does  ;  for  you  see  that,  though 
she  was  offered  this  manyscrip  by  the  princess  for  no- 
think,  though  she  knew  that  she  could  actially  get  for 
it  a  large  sum  of  money,  she  was  above  it,  like  an  hon- 
est, noble,  grateful,  fashnabble  woman,  as  she  was.  She 
aboars  secrecy,  and  never  will  have  recors  to  disguise  or 
crookid  polacy.  This  ought  to  be  an  ansure  to  them 
Baddicle  sneerers,  who  pretend  that  they  are  the  equals 
of  fashnabble  pepple ;  whareas  it's  a  well-known  fact, 
that  the  vulgar  roagues  have  no  notion  of  honour. 

And  after  this  positif  declaration,  which  reflex  hon 


62  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

or  Oil  lier  ladyship  (long  life  to  her  !  I've  often  waited 
behind  her  chair !) — after  this  positif  declaration,  that, 
even  for  the  porpus  of  defending  her  missis,  she  was  so 
hi-mindid  as  to  refuse  anythink  like  a  peculiary  con- 
sideration, it  is  actially  asserted  in  the  public  prints  by 
a  booxeller,  that  he  has  given  her  a  thousand  pound 
for  the  Dairy,  A  thousand  pound  !  nonsince  ! — it's  a 
phigment !  a  base  lible  !  This  woman  take  a  thousand 
pound,  in  a  matter  where  her  dear  mistriss,  frend,  and 
benyfactriss  was  concerned !  Never  !  A  thousand  bag- 
gonits  would  be  more  prefrabble  to  a  woman  of  her 
xquizzit  feelins  and  fashion. 

But,  to  proseed.  It's  been  objected  to  me,  when  I 
wrote  some  of  my  expearunces  in  fashnabble  life,  that 
my  languidge  was  occasionally  vulgar,  and  not  such  as 
is  generally  used  in  those  exquizzit  famlies  which  I  fre- 
quent. Now,  I'll  lay  a  wager  that  there  is  in  this  book, 
wrote  as  all  the  world  knows,  by  a  rele  lady,  and  speak- 
in  of  kings  and  queens  as  if  they  were  as  common  as 
sand-boys — there  is  in  this  book  more  witlgarity  than 
ever  I  displayed,  more  nastiness  than  ever  I  would  dare 
to  think  on,  and  more  bad  grammar  than  ever  I  wrote 
since  I  was  a  boy  at  school.  As  for  authografy,  evry 
genlm  has  his  own :  never  mind  spellin,  I  say,  so  long 
as  the  sence  is  right. 

Let  me  here  quot  a  letter  from  a  corryspondent  of 
this  charming  lady  of  honour ;  and  a  very  nice  coirj- 
spondent  he  is,  too,  without  any  mistake  : 

"  Lady  O ,  poor  Lady  O !  knows  the  rules  of  pru- 
dence, I  fear  me,  as  imperfectly  as  she  doth  those  of  the  Greek 
and  Latin  Grammars :  or  she  hatk  let  her  brother,  who  is  a  sad 


"the    dairy    of    GEORGE    IV."  63 

swine,  become  master  of  her  secrets,  and  then  contrived  to 
quarrel  with  him.     You  would  see  the  outline  of  the  melange  in 

the  newspapers ;  but  not  the  report  that  Mr.  S is  about  to 

publish  a  pamphlet,  as  an  addition  to  the  Harleiau  Tracts,  set- 
ting forth  the  amatory  adventures  of  his  sister,  "We  shall 
break  our  necks  in  haste  to  buj  it,  of  course  crying  '  Shame- 
ful' all  the  while ;  and  it  is  said  that  Lady  0 is  to  be  cut, 

which  I  cannot  entirely  believe.  Let  her  tell  two  or  three  old 
women  about  town  that  they  are  young  and  handsome,  and 
give  some  well-timed  parties,  and  she  may  etill  keep  the  society 
which  she  hath  been  \ised  to.  The  times  are  not  so  hard  as 
they  once  were,  when  a  woman  could  not  construe  Magna 
Charta  with  any  thing  like  impunity.  People  were  full  as  gal- 
lant many  years  ago.  But  the  days  are  gone  by  wherein  my 
lord-protector  of  the  commonwealth  of  England  was  wont  to 
go  a  love-making  to  Mrs.  Fleetwood,  with  the  Bible  iinder  his 
arm. 

"And  so  jMiss  Jacky  Gordon  is  really  clothed  with  a  hus- 
band at  last,  and  Miss  Laura  Manners  left  without  a  mate ! 
She  and  Lord  Stair  should  marry  and  have  children,  in  mere 
revenge.  As  to  Miss  Gordon,  she's  a  Yenus  well  suited  for 
such  a  Yulcan, — whom  nothing  but  money  and  a  title  could 
have  rendered  tolerable,  even  to  a  kitchen  wench.  It  is  said 
that  the  matrimonial  correspondence  between  this  couple  is  to 
be  published,  full  of  sad  scandalous  relations,  of  which  you  may 
be  sure  scarcely  a  word  is  true.  In  former  times,  the  Duchess  of 
St.  A 's  made  use  of  these  elegant  epistles,  in  order  to  in- 
timidate Lady  Johnstone  :  but  that  ruse  would  not  avail ;  so, 
in  spite,  they  are  to  be  printed.  What  a  cargo  of  amiable 
creatures !  Yet  will  some  people  scarcely  believe  in  the  exist- 
ence of  Pandemonium. 

"  Tuesday  morning. — You  are  perfectly  right  respecting  the 
hot  rooms  here,  which  we  all  cry  out  against,  and  all  find  very 
comfortable — much  more  so  than  the  cold  sands  and  bleak 
neighbourhood  of  the  sea;  which  looks  vastly  well  in  one  of 
Vander  Yelde's    pictures   hung   upon   crimson    damask,    but 

liideous  and  shocking  in  reahty.     H and  his  '  elle'  (talking 

of  parties)  were  last  night  at  Cholmondeley  House,  but  seem 


64  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

not  to  ripen  in  their  lore.  He  is  certainly  good-humoured, 
and,  I  believe,  good-hearted,  so  deserves  a  good  wife ;  but  his 
cara  seems  a  genuine  London  miss,  made  up  of  many  affecta- 
tions. Will  she  form  a  comfortable  helpmate  ?  For  me,  I  like 
not  her  origin,  and  deem  many  strange  things  to  run  in  blood, 
besides  madness  and  the  Hanoverian  evil. 

"  Thursday. — I  verily  do  believe  that  I  shall  never  get  to 
the  end  of  this  small  sheet  of  paper,  so  many  unheard  of  in- 
terruptions  have  I  had ;  and  now  I  have  been  to  Vauxhall, 

and  caught  the  tooth-ache.     I  was  of  Lady  E.  B m  and 

H 's  party:  very  dull — the  Lady  giving  us  all  a  supper 

after  om'  promenade — 

'  Much  ado  was  there,  God  wot ; 
She  would  love,  but  he  would  not.' 

He  ate  a  gi'eat  deal  of  ice,  although  he  did  not  seem  to  re- 
quire it ;  and  she  'faisoit  les  yeux  doux,''  enough  not  only  to 
have  melted  all  the  ice  which  he  swallowed,  but  his  own  hard 
heart  into  the  bargain.  The  thing  will  not  do.  In  the  mean 
time,  Miss  Long  hath  become  quite  ci'uel  to  Wellesley  Pole,  and 
divides  her  favour  equally  between  Lords  Killeen  and  Kil- 
worth,  two  as  simple  Irishmen  as  ever  gave  birth  to  a  bull.  I 
wish  to  Hymen  that  she  were  fairly  married,  for  all  this  pother 
gives  one  a  disgusting  pictm'e  of  human  nature." 

A  disgusting  pictur  of  human  nature,  indeed — and 
isn't  lie  who  moralises  about  it,  and  she  to  whom  he 
writes,  a  couple  of  pretty  heads  in  the  same  piece? 
Which,  Mr.  Yorke,  is  the  wust,  the  scandle  or  the  scan- 
die-mongers  ?  See  what  it  is  to  be  amoral  manof  fashn. 
Fust,  he  scrapes  togither  all  the  bad  stoaries  about  all 
the  people  of  his  acquentance — he  goes  to  a  ball,  and 
lafl^s  or  snears  at  everybody  there — he  is  asked  to  a 
dinner,  and  brings  away,  along  with  meat  and  wine  to 
his  heart's  content,  a  sour  stomick,  filled  with  nasty 
itories  of  all  the  people  present  there.     He  has  such  a 


"tHF    dairy    of    GEORGE    IV."  65 

squeamish  appytite,  that  all  the  -world  seems  to  disagree 
■with  him.  And  what  has  he  got  to  say  to  his  deUicate 
female  frend  ?     Why  that — 

Fust.  Mr.  S.  is  going  to  publish  indesent  stoaries 

about  Lady  0 ,  his  sister,  which  everybody's  goin 

toby. 

Nex.  That  Miss  Gordon  is  going  to  be  cloathed 
with  an  usband ;  and  that  all  their  matramonial  corry- 
spondins  is  to  be  published  too. 

3.  That  Lord  H.  is  goin  to  be  married  ;  but  there's 
something  rong,  in  his  'svife's  blood. 

4.  !Miss  Long  has  cut  Mr.  Wellesley,  and  is  gone 
after  two  Lish  lords. 

Wooden  you  phancy,  now,  that  the  author  of  such 
a  letter,  instead  of  writin  about  pipple  of  tip-top  quala- 
ty,  was  describin  Vinegar  Yard  ?  Would  you  beleave 
that  the  lady  he  was  a  ritin  to  was  a  chased,  modist  lady 
of  honour,  and  mother  of  a  famly  ?  0  truraiKry^  0 
morris  !  as  Homer  says,  this  is  a  higeous  pictur  of  man- 
ners, such  as  I  weap  to  think  of,  as  evry  morl  man 
must  weap. 

The  above  is  one  pritty  pictur  of  mearly  fashnabble 
life :  what  follows  is  about  famlies  even  hio-her  situated 
than  the  most  fashnabble.  Here  we  have  the  princess- 
regint,  her  daughter  the  Princess  Sharlot,  her  grand- 
mamma the  old  quean,  and  her  madjisty  daughters  the 
two  princesses.  If  this  is  not  high  life,  I  don't  know 
where  it  is  to  be  found ;  and  it's  pleasing  to  see  what 
aflfeckshn  and  harmny  rains  in  such  an  exolted  spear. 

"  Sunday,  ^Uh. — ^Yesterday,  the  princess  went  to  meet  the 
PriQcess  Charlotte  at  Kensington.     Lady told  me  that^ 


66  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

when  the  latter  arrived,  she  rushed  up  to  her  mother,  and 
said,  '  For  God's  sake,  be  civil  to  her,'  meaning  the  Duchess  of 

Leeds,  who  followed  her.     Lady said  she  felt  sorry  for 

the  latter ;  but  when  the  Princess  of  Wales  talked  to  her,  she 
soon  became  so  free  and  easy,  that  one  could  not  have  any 
feeling  about  her  feelings.  Princess  Charlotte,  I  was  told,  was 
looking  handsome,  very  pale,  but  her  head  more  becomingly 
dressed, — that  is  to  say,  less  dressed  than  usual.  Her  figure  is 
of  that  full  round  shape  which  is  now  in  its  prime ;  but  she 
disfigures  herself  by  wearing  her  boddice  so  short,  that  she 
literally  has  no  waist.  Her  feet  are  very  pretty ;  and  so  are 
her  hands  and  arms,  and  her  ear,  and  the  shape  of  her  head. 
Her  countenance  is  expressive,  when  she  allows  her  passions 
to  play  upon  it ;  and  I  never  saw  any  face,  with  so  little  shade, 

express  so  many  powerful  and  varied   emotions.     Lady 

told  me  that  the  Princess  Charlotte  talked  to  her  about  her 
situation,  and  said,  in  a  very  quiet,  but  determined  way,  she 
woidd  not  hear  it,  and  that,  as  soon  as  parliament  met,  she  in- 
tended to  come  to  Warwick  House,  and  remain  there ;  that 
she  was  also  determined  not  to  consider  the  Duchess  of  Leeds 
as  her  governess,  but  only  as  her  first  lady.  She  made  many 
observations  on  other  persons  and  subjects  ;  and  appears  to  be 
very  quick,  very  penetrating,  but  imperious  and  wilful.  There 
is  a  tone  of  romance,  too,  in  her  character,  which  will  only 
serve  to  mislead  her. 

"  She  told  her  mother  that  there  had  been  a  great  battle  at 
Windsor  between  the  queen  and  the  prince,  the  former  refus- 
ing to  give  up  Miss  Knight  fi*om  her  own  person  to  attend  on 
Princess  Charlotte  as  sub-governess.  But  the  prince-regent 
had  gone  to  Windsor  himself,  and  insisted  on  her  doing  so ; 
and  the  '  old  Beguin'  was  forced  to  submit,  but  has  been  ill 
ever  since :  and  Sir  Henry  Halford  declared  it  was  a  complete 
breaking  iip  of  her  constitution — to  the  great  delight  of  the 
two  princesses,  who  were  talking  about  this  affair.  Miss 
Knight  was  the  very  person  they  wished  to  have  ;  they  think 
they  can  do  as  they  like  with  her.  It  had  been  ordered  that 
the  Princess  Charlotte  should  not  see  her  mother  alone  for  a 
single  moment ;  but  the  latter  went  into  her  room,  stuffed  a 


"  THE    DAIRY    OF    GEORGE    IV."  67 

pair  of  large  shoes  full  of  papers,  and,  having 'given  them  to 

her  daughter,  she  went  home.      Lady  told  me  everj 

thing  vras  written   down,  and    sent  to  Mr.   Brougham   next 
day." 

See  what  dishcord  will  creap  even  into  tlie  best  reg- 
ulated famKes.  Here  are  six  of  'em — viz.,  the  quean 
and  her  two  daughters,  her  son,  and  his  wife  und 
daughter;  and  the  manner  in  which  they  hate  one 
another  is  a  compleat  puzzle. 

r    his  mother. 

The  Prince  hates }    his  wife. 

(    his  daughter. 

Princess  Charlotte  hates  her  father. 

Princess  of  Wales  hates  her  husband. 

The  old  quean,  by  their  squobbles,  is  on  the  pint  of 
death  ;  and  her  two  jewtiful  daughters  are  delighted  at 
the  news.  What  a  happy,  fashnabble,  Chiistian  famly  1 
O  Mr.  Yorke,  Mr.  Yorhe,  if  this  is  the  way  in  the  drawin 
rooms,  I'm  quite  content  to  live  below,  in  pease  and 
charaty  with  all  men  ;  writin,  as  I  am  now,  in  my  pan- 
try, or  els  havin  a  quite  game  at  cards  in  the  servants- 
all.  With  us  there's  no  bitter,  wicked,  quarling  of 
this  sort.  We  don't  hate  our  children,  or  bully  our 
mothers,  or  wish  em  ded  when  they're  sick,  as  this 
Dairy-woman  says  kings  and  queans  do.  When  we're 
writing  to  our  friends  or  sweethearts,  ive  don't  fill  our 
letters  Tsdth  nasty  stoaries,  takin  away  the  carricter  of 
our  fellow-servants,  as  this  maid  of  honour's  amusin, 
moral,  frend  does.  But,  in  coarse,  it's  not  for  us  to  judge 
of  our  betters  ; — these  great  people  are  a  supearur  race, 
and  we  can't  comprehend  their  ways. 

Do  you  recklect — it's  twenty  years  ago   now — how 


68  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 


a  bewtiifle  princess  died  in  givin  buth  to  a  poar  baby, 
and  how  tlie  whole  nation  of  Hengland  wep,  as  though 
it  was  one  man,  over  that  sweet  woman  and  child,  in 
which  were  sentered  the  hopes  of  every  one  of  us,  and 
of  which  each  was  as  proud  as  of  his  own  wife  or  infiit  ? 
Do  you  recklect  how  pore  fellows  spent  their  last  shillin 
to  buy  a  black  crape  for  their  hats,  and  clergymen  cried 
in  the  pulpit,  and  the  whole  country  through  was  no 
better  than  a  great  dismal  funeral  ?  Do  you  recMect, 
Mr.  Yorke,  who  was  the  person  that  we  all  took  on  so 
about  ?  We  called  her  the  Princiss  Sharlot  of  Wales  ; 
and  we  valyoud  a  single  drop  of  her  blood  more  than 
the  whole  heartless  body  of  her  father.  Well,  we  look- 
ed up  to  her  as  a  kind  of  saint  or  angle,  and  blest  God 
(such  foolish  loyal  English  pipple  as  we  ware  in  those 
days)  who  had  sent  this  sweet  lady  to  rule  over  us. 
But,  Heaven  bless  you !  it  was  only  souperstition.  She 
was  no  better  than  she  should  be,  as  it  turns  out — or  at 
least  the  Dairy-maid  says  so — no  better  ? — if  my  daugh- 
ters or  yours  was  ^  so  bad,  we'd  as  leaf  be  dead  our- 
selves, and  they  hanged.  But  listen  to  this  pritty  char- 
ritable  storry,  and  a  truce  to  reflexshuns : — 

^^  Sunday,  Jamiary  9,  1814. — Yesterday,  according  to  ap- 
pointment, I  went  to  Princess  Charlotte.  Found  at  "Warwick 
House  the  harp-player  Dizzi ;  was  asked  to  remain  and  Hsten 
to  his  performance,  but  was  talked  to  during  the  whole  time, 
which  completely  prevented  all  possibility  of  listening  to  the 
music.  The  Duchess  of  Leeds  and  her  daughter  were  in  the 
room,  but  left  it  soon.  IS'ext  arrived  Miss  Knight,  who  re- 
mained all  the  time  I  was  there.  Princess  Charlotte  was  very 
gracious — showed  me  all  her  bonny  dyes,  as  B— —  would  have 
called  them — pictures,  and  cases,  and  jewels,  &c.  She  talked 
in  a  very  desultory  way,  and  it  would  be  difficult  to  say  of 


"the    dairy    of    GEORGE    IV."  69 

what*  She  obsei'ved  her  mother  was  in  very  low  spirits.  I 
asked  her  how  she  supposed  she  could  be  otherwise  ?  This 
questioning  answer  saves  a  great  deal  of  trouble,  and  serves 
two  purposes— z.  e.  avoids  committing  oneself,  or  giving  offence 
by  silence.     There  was  hung  in  the  apartment  one  portrait, 

amongst  others,  that  very  much  resembled  the  Duke  of  D 

I  asked  Miss  Knight  whom  it  represented.  She  said  that  was 
not  known  ;  it  had  been  supposed  a  likeness  of  the  Pretender, 
when  young.  This  answer  suited  my  thoughts  so  comically  I 
could  have  laughed,  if  one  ever  did  at  courts  any  thing  but  the 
contrary  of  what  one  was  inclined  to  do. 

"  Princess  Charlotte  has  a  veiy  great  variety  of  expression 
in  her  countenance — a  play  of  features,  and  a  force  of  muscle, 
I'arely  seen  in  connection  with  such  soft  and  shadeless  colour- 
ing. Her  hands  and  arms  are  beautiful ;  but  I  think  her  figure 
is  already  gone,  and  will  soon  be  precisely  like  her  mother's : 
in  short,  it  is  the  very  picture  of  her,  and  not  in  miniature.  I 
could  not  help  analyzing  my  own  sensations  during  the  time  I 
was  with  her,  and  thought  more  of  them  than  I  did  of  her. 
Why  was  I  at  all  flattered,  at  all  more  amused,  at  all  more 
supple  to  this  young  princess,  than  to  her  who  is  only  the 
same  sort  of  person,  set  in  the  shade  of  circumstances  and  of 
years  ?  It  is  that  youth,  and  the  approach  of  power,  and  the 
latent  views  of  self-interest,  sway  the  heart  and  dazzle  the  un- 
derstanding. If  this  is  so  with  a  heart  not,  I  trust,  corrupt^ 
and  a  head  not  particularly  formed  for  interested  calculations, 
what  effect  must  not  the  same  causes  produce  on  the  generahty 
of  mankind  t 

"In  the  course  of  the  conversation,  the  Princess  Charlotte 
contrived  to  edge  in  a  good  deal  of  tum-de-dy,  and  would,  if  I 
had  entered  into  the  thing,  have  gone  on  with  it,  while  look- 
ing at  a  little  picture  of  herself,  which  had  about  thirty  or 
forty  different  dresses  to  put  over  it,  done  on  isinglass,  and 
which  allowed  the  general  colouring  of  the  picture  to  be  seen 
through  its  transparency.  It  was,  I  thought,  a  pretty  enough 
conceit,  though  rather  like  dressing  up  a  doll.  *AhI'  said 
Miss  Knight,  'I  am  not  content  though,  madam — for  I   yel 


70  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

shoiild  have  liked  one  more  dress— that  of  the  favourite  Sul- 
tana.' 

"  *  No,  no  r  said  the  princess,  *  I  never  was  a  favourite,  and 
never  can  be  one,' — looking  at  a  picture  which  she  said  was  her 
father's,  but  which  I  do  not  believe  was  done  for  the  Regent 
any  more  than  for  me,  but  represented  a  young  man  in  a  hus- 
soi-'s  dress — -probably  a  former  favourite. 

'*The  Princess  Charlotte  seemed  much  hurt  at  the  little  no- 
tice that  was  taken  of  her  birthday.  After  keeping  me  for 
two  hours  and  a  half  she  dismissed  me ;  and  I  am  sure  I  could 
not  say  what  she  said,  except  that  it  was  an  olio  of  dec^-usus 
and  heterogeneous  things,  partaking  of  the  characteristics  of 
her  mother,  grafted  on  a  younger  scion.  I  dined  tete-a-tete 
with  my  dear  old  aunt :  hers  is  always  a  sweet  and  soothing 
aociety  to  me." 

There's  a  pleasing,  lady-like,  moral  extrack  for  you  ! 
An  innocent  young  thing  of  fifteen  has  picturs  of  two 
lovers  in  her  room,  and  expex  a  good  number  more. 
This  dellygate  young  creature  edges  in  a  good  deal  of 
tumdedy  (I  can't  find  it  in  Johnson's  Dixionary),  and 
would  have  gone  on  zdth  the  thing  (ellygence  of  lan- 
guidge),  if  the  dairy-lady  would  have  let  her. 

Now,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  Mr.  Yorke,  I  doant  be- 
leave  a  single  syllible  of  this  story.  This  lady  of  hon- 
ner  says,  in  the  fast  place,  that  the  princess  would  have 
talked  a  good  deal  of  tumdedy  :  which  means,  I  suppose, 
indeasnsy,  if  she,  the  lady  of  honner  would  have  let  her. 
This  is  a  good  one !  Why,  she  lets  every  body  else 
talk  tumdedy  to  their  hearts'  content;  she  lets  her 
friends  write  tumdedy,  and,  after  keeping  it  for  a  quar- 
ter of  a  sentry,  she  prints  it.  Why,  then,  be  so  squea- 
mish about  hearing  a  little  !  And,  then,  there's  the 
stoary  of  the  two  portricks.     This  woman  has  the  hon- 


"the    dairy    of    GEORGE    IV."  71 

ner  to  be  received  in  tlie  frendlyest  manner  by  a  British 
princess ;  and  wliat  does  the  grateful  loyal  creature  do  ? 
2  picturs  of  the  princess's  relations  are  hanging  in  her 
room,  and  the  daiiy-woman  swears  away  the  poor 
young  princess's  carrickter,  by  swearing  they  are  pic- 
turs of  her  lovers.  For  shame,  oh,  for  shame  !  you  slan- 
derin  bachbitin,  dairy-woman  you !  If  you  told  all 
them  things  to  your  "  dear  old  aunt,"  on  going  to  dine 
with  her,  you  must  have  have  had  very  "  sweet  and 
soothing  society,"  indeed. 

I  had  marked  out  many  moar  extrax,  witch  I  in- 
tended to  write  about ;  but  I  think  I  have  said  enough 
jibout  this  Dairy :  in  fack,  the  butler,  and  the  gals  in 
the  servants'  hall,  are  not  well  pleased  that  I  should  go 
on  readin  this  naughty  book ;  so  we'll  have  no  more  of 
it,  only  one  passidge  about  Pollytics,  witch  is  sertnly 
quite  new : — 

"jS"o  one  was  so  likely  to  be  able  to  defeat  Bonaparte  as 
the  Crown  Prince,  from  the  intimate  knowledge  he  possessed 
of  hie  character.  Bernadotte  was  also  instigated  against  Bona- 
parte by  one  who  not  only  owed  him  a  personal  hatred,  but 
who  possessed  a  mind  equal  to  his,  and  who  gave  the  Crown 
Prince  both  information  and  advice  how  to  act.  This  was  no 
less  a  person  than  Madame  de  Stael.  It  was  not,  as  some  have 
asserted,  that  she  was  in  love  loith  Bernadotte  ;  for,  at  the  time 
of  their  intimacy,  Madame  de  Stael  was  in  love  with  Rocca. 
But  she  used  her  influence  (which  was  not  small)  with  the 
Crown  Prince,  to  make  him  fight  against  Bonaparte,  and  to 
her  wisdom  may  be  attributed  much  of  the  success  which  aC' 
companied  his  attack  upon  him.  Bernadotte  has  raised  the 
flame  of  liberty,  which  seems  fortunately  to  blaze  all  around. 
May  it  liberate  Europe  ;  and  fi'om  the  ashes  of  the  laurel  may 
olive  branches  spring  up,  and  overshadow  the  earth  !" 


72  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

There's  a  discuvery !  that  the  overthrow  of  Boney- 
part  is  owing  to  Madame  de  Stael  !  What  nonsince 
for  Colonel  Southey,  or  Doctor  Napier,  to  write  histories 
of  the  war  with  that  Capsican  hupstart  and  murderer, 
when  here  we  have  the  whole  affair  explaned  by  the 
lady  of  honour ! 

*^  Sunday,  April  10,  1814. — ^The  incidents  which  take  place 
every  hour  are  miraculous.  Bonaparte  is  deposed,  but  aHve ; 
subdued,  but  allowed  to  choose  his  place  of  residence.  The 
island  of  Elba  is  the  spot  he  has  selected  for  his  ignominious 
retreat.  France  is  holding  forth  repentant  arms  to  her  ban- 
ished sovereign.  The  Poissardes  who  dragged  Louis  XVI.  tc 
the  scaffold  are  presenting  flowers  to  the  Emperor  of  Russia, 
the  restorer  of  their  legitimate  king  I  "What  a  stupendous  field 
for  philosophy  to  expatiate  in  1  What  an  endless  material  for 
thought!  What  humiliation  to  the  pride  of  mere  human 
greatness!  How  are  the  mighty  fallen!  Of  all  that  was 
great  in  Napoleon,  what  remains  ?  Despoiled  of  his  usurped 
power,  he  sinks  to  insignificance.  There  was  no  moral  great- 
ness in  the  man.  The  meteor  dazzled,  scorched,  is  put  out, — 
utterly,  and  for  ever.  But  the  power  which  rests  in  those 
who  have  delivered  the  nations  from  bondage,  is  a  power  that 
is  delegated  to  them  from  Heaven ;  and  the  manner  in  which 
they  have  used  it  is  a  guarantee  for  its  continuance.  The 
Duke  of  AVellington  has  gained  laurels  unstained  by  any  use- 
less flow  of  blood.  He  has  done  more  than  conquer  others — 
he  has  conquered  himself:  and  in  the  midst  of  the  blaze  and 
flush  of  victory,  surrounded  by  the  homage  of  nations,  he  has 
not  been  betrayed  into  the  commission  of  any  act  of  cruelty  or 
wanton  offence.  He  was  as  cool  and  self-possessed  under  the 
blaze  and  dazzle  of  fame  as  a  common  man  would  be  under  the 
shade  of  his  garden-tree,  or  by  the  hearth  of  his  home.  But 
the  tyi'ant  who  kept  Em-ope  in  awe  is  now  a  pitiable  object 
for  scorn  to  point  the  finger  of  derision  at;  and  humanity 
shudders  as  it  remembers  the  scourge  with  which  this  man's 


"the    dairy    of    GEORGE    IV."  73 

ambition  was  permitted  to  devaatq.te  every  home  tie,  and  every 
heartfelt  iov^," 

And  now,  after  this  sublime  passidge,  as  full  of 
awfle  reflections  and  pious  sentyments  as  those  of  Mrs. 
Cole  in  the  play,  I  shall  only  quot  one  httle  extrack 
more : — 

"  All  goes  gloomily  with  the  poor  princess.  Lady  Charlotte 
Campbell  told  me  she  regrets  not  seeing  all  these  curious  per- 
sonages ;  but  she  says,  the  more  the  princess  is  forsaken,  the 
more  happy  she  is  at  having  offered  to  attend  her  at  this  time. 
This  is  very  amiable  in  her,  and  cannot  fail  to  be  gratifying  to 
the  princess." 

So  it  is — wery  amiable,  wery  Mnd  and  considdrate 
in  her,  indeed.  Poor  Princess  !  how  lucky  you  was  to 
find  a  frend  who  loved  you  for  your  own  sake,  and 
when  all  the  rest  of  the  wuld  turned  its  back  kep  steady 
to  you.  As  for  beleaving  that  Lady  Sharlot  had  any 
hand  in  this  book,*  Heaven  forbid  !  she  is  all  gratitude, 
pure  gratitude,  depend  upon  it.  She  would  not  go  for 
to  blacken  her  old  frend  and  patron's  carrickter,  after 
having  been  so  outragusly  faithful  to  her  ;  she  wouldn't 
do  it,  at  n3  price,  depend  upon  it.  How  sorry  she 
must  be  that  others  a'nt  quite  so  squemish,  and  show 
up  in  this  indesent  way  the  follies  of  her  kind,  genrus, 
foolish  bennyfactriss ! 

*  The  "  authorized"  announcement,  in  the  John  Bull  news- 
paper, sets  this  question  at  rest.  It  is  declared  that  her  lady- 
ship is  not  the  writer  of  the  Diary. — 0.  Y. 


Y4  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 


FORING  PARTS. 

It  was  a  singular  proof  of  my  master's  modesty,  that 
thougli  he  had  won  this  andsome  sum  of  Mr.  Dawkins, 
and  was  inchned  to  be  as  extravygant  and  osntatious 
as  any  man  I  ever  seed,  yet,  wen  he  determined  on  go- 
ing to  Paris,  he  didn't  let  a  single  frend  know  of  all 
them  winnings  of  his,  didn't  acquaint  my  Lord  Crabs, 
his  father,  that  he  was  about  to  leave  his  natiff  shoars — 
neigh,  didn't  even  so  much  as  call  together  his  trades- 
min,  and  pay  off  their  little  bills  befor  his  departure. 

On  the  contry,  "  Chawles,"  said  he  to  me,  "  stick  a 
piece  of  paper  on  my  door,"  which  is  the  way  that 
lawyers  do,  and  write  '  Back  at  seven'  upon  it."  Back 
at  seven  I  wrote,  and  stuck  it  on  our  outer  oak.  And 
so  mistearus  was  Deuceace  about  his  continental  tour 
(to  all  excep  me),  that  when  the  landriss  brought  him 
her  account  for  the  last  month  (amountain,  at  the  very 
least,  to  21.  IO5.),  master  told  her  to  leave  it  till  Monday 
mornin,  when  it  should  be  properly  settled.  It's  ex- 
trodny  how  ickonomical  a  man  becomes,  when  he's  got 
five  thousand  lbs.  in  his  pockit. 

Back  at  7  indeed !  At  7  we  were  a  roalin  on  the 
Dover  Road,  in  the  Reglator  Coach — master  inside,  me 
out.  A  strange  company  of  people  there  was,  too,  in 
that  wehicle, — 3  sailors  ;  an  Italyin,  with  his  music-box 
and    munky ;    a    missionary,    going    to    convert    the 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  76 


heathens  in  France  ;  2  oppra  girls  (they  call  'em  figure- 
aunts),  and  the  figure-aunts'  mothers  inside ;  4  French- 
min,  with  gings^bred  caps,  and  mustashes,  smgin,  chat- 
terin,  and  jesticklating  in  ^he  most  vonderful  vay. 
Such  compliments  as  passed  between  them  and  the 
figure-aunts  !  such  a  munchin  of  biskits  and  sippin  of 
brandy  !  such  0  mong  Jews,  and  0  sacrrres,  and  kill 
fay  frwaws  !  I  didn't  understand  their  languidge  at 
that  time,  so  of  course  can't  igsplain  much  of  their  con- 
wersation  ;  but  it  pleased  me,  nevertheless,  for  now  I 
felt  that  I  was  reely  going  into  foring  parts,  which,  ever 
sins  I  had  had  any  edicatiou  at  all,  was  always  my  fondest 
wish.  Heaven  bless  us  !  thought  I,  if  these  are  specimeens 
of  all  Frenchmen,  what  a  set  they  must  be.  The  pore 
Italyin's  monky,  sittin  mopin  and  meluncolly  on  his  box, 
was  not  half  so  ugly,  and  seamed  quite  as  reasonabble. 

Well,  we  anived  at  Dover — Ship  Hotel — weal  cut- 
lets half  a  ginny,  glas  of  ale  a  shilling,  glas  of  neagush, 
half-a-crownd,  a  hapn'y-worth  of  wax-lites  four  shillings, 
and  so  on.  But  master  paid  without  grumling ;  as 
long  as  it  was  for  himself,  he  never  minded  the  expens : 
and  nex  dav  we  embarked  in  the  packit  for  Balono;  sir 
mare — which  means  in  French,  the  town  of  Balono-  sit- 
Youated  on  the  sea.  I,  who  had  heard  of  forins:  won- 
ders,  expected  this  to  be  the  fust  and  greatest :  phansy, 
then,  my  disapintment,  when  we  got  there,  to  find  this 
Balong,  not  sityouated  on  the  sea,  but  on  :he  shoar. 

But,  oh  !  the  gettin  there  was  the  bisniss.  How  I 
did  wish  for  Pump  Court  agin,  as  we  were  tawsing 
abowt  in  the  Channel !  Gentle  reader,  av  you  ever 
been  on  the  otion  ? — "  The  sea,  the  sea,  the  hopen  sea !" 
as  Barry  Cromwell  says.     As  soon  as  we  entered   our 


^6  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

little  wessel,  and  I'd  looked  to  master's  luggitcli  and 
mine  (mine  was  rapt  up  in  a  very  small  hankercher), 
as  soon,  I  say,  as  we  entered  our  little  wessel,  as 
soon  as  I  saw  the  waives,  black  and  frotliy,  like 
fi'esh-drawn  porter,  a  dashin  against  the  ribbs  of  our 
galliant  bark,  the  keal,  like  a  wedge,  sphttin  the  billoes 
in  two,  the  sales  a  flaffin  in  the  hair,  the  standard  of 
Hengland  floating  at  the  mask-head,  the  steward  a  get- 
tin  ready  the  basins  and  things,  the  capting  proudly 
tredding  the  deck  and  givin  orders  to  the  salers,  the 
white  rox  of  Albany  and  the  bathin-masheens  disappear- 
ing in  the  distans — then,  then  I  felt,  for  the  first  time, 
the  mite,  the  madgisty  of  existence.  "  Yellowplush,  my 
boy,"  said  I,  in  a  dialog  with  myself,  "  your  life  •  is  now 
about  to  commens — your  carear,  as  a  man,  dates  from 
your  entrans  on  board  this  packit.  Be  wise,  be  manly, 
be  cautious — forgit  the  follies  of  your  youth.  You  are 
no  longer  a  boy  now,  but  a  footman.  Throw  down 
your  tops,  your  marbles,  your  boyish  games — throw  off 
your  childish  babbits  \\dth  your  inky   clerk's  jackit — 

throw  up  your " 

^  %  %  %  % 

Here,  I  recklect,  I  was  obleeged  to  stopp.  A  feahn, 
in  the  fust  place  singlar,  in  the  nex  place  painful,  and 
at  last  compleatly  overpowering,  had  come  upon  me 
■while  I  was  making  the  abuff  speach,  and  I  now  found 
myself  in  a  sityouation  which  DelHxy  for  Bids  me  to  dis- 
cribe.  Suffis  to  say,  that  now  I  dixcovered  w^hat  ba- 
sins was  made  for — that  for  many,  many  hours,  I  lay  in. 
a  hagony  of  exostion,  dead  to  all  intence  and  porpuses, 
the  rain  pattering  in  my  face,  the  salers  tramplink  over 
my   body — the   panes  of  purgertory  going  on  inside. 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  77 

When  we'd  been  about  four  hours  in  this  sityouation 
(it  seam'd  to  me  four  ears),  the  steward  comes  to  that 
part  of  the  deck  where  we  servants  were  all  huddled  up 
together,  and  calls  out,  "  Charles  !" 

"  Well,"  says  I,  gurgling  out  a  faint  "  yes,  what's 
the  matter  ?" 

"  You're  wanted." 

"  Where  ?" 

"  Your  master's  wery  ill,"  says  he  Avith  a  grin. 

"  Master  be  hanged  !"  says  I,  turning  round  more 
raisrable  than  ever.  I  woodn't  have  moved  that  day 
for  twenty  thousand  masters — no,  not  for  the  Empror 
of  Russia  or  the  Pop  of  Room. 

Well,  to  cut  this  sad  subjick  short,  many  and  many 
a  voyitch  have  I  sins  had  upon  what  Shakespur  calls 
"  the  wasty  dip,"  but  never  such  a  retched  one  as  that 
from  Dover  to  Balong,  in  the  year  Anna  Domino  1818. 
Steamers  were  scarce  in  those  days ;  and  our  journey 
was  made  in  a  smack.  At  last,  when  I  was  in  such  a 
stage  of  despare  and  exostion  as  reely  to  phansy  my- 
self at  Death's  doar,  w^e  got  to  the  end  of  our  journy. 
Late  in  the  evening  we  hailed  the  Gaelic  shoars,  and 
hankered  in  the  arbour  of  Balong  sir  Mare. 

It  was  the  entrans  of  Parrowdice  to  me  and  master ; 
and  as  w^e  entered  the  calm  water,  and  saw  the  com- 
frable  lights  gleaming  in  the  houses,  and  felt  the  roal 
of  the  vessel  degreasing,  never  was  two  mortials  glad- 
der, I  warrant,  than  we  were.  At  length  our  capting 
drew  up  at  the  key,  and  our  journey  was  down.  But 
such  a  bustle  and  clatter,  such  jabbering,  snch  shrieking 
and  swaring,  such  wollies  of  oafe  and  axicrations  as  sa- 
luted us  on  landing,  I  never  knew  !     We  were  boarded, 


78  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

in  tlie  fust  place,  by  customhouse  officers  in  cock-bats, 
who  seased  our  luggitch,  and  called  for  our  passpots : 
then  a  crowd  of  inn-waiters  came,  tumbling  and  scream- 
ing, on  deck — Dis  way,  sare,"  cries  one ;  Hotel  Meu- 
rice,"  says  another  ;  "  Hotel  de  Bang,"  screeches  another 
chap — the  tower  of  Bayble  was  nothink  to  it.  The 
fust  thing  that  struck  me  on  landing  was  a  big  fellow  with 
ear-rings,  who  very  nigh  knock  me  down,  in  Avrenching 
master's  carpet-bag  out  of  my  hand,  as  I  was  carrying 
it  to  the  hotell.  But  we  got  to  it  safe  at  last ;  and,  for 
the  fust  time  in  my  life,  I  slep  in  a  foring  country. 

I  shan't  describe  this  town  of  Balong,  which,  as  it 
has  been  visited  by  not  less  (on  an  avaridge)  than  two 
milliuns  of  English  since  I  fust  saw  it  twenty  years  ago, 
is  tolrabbly  well  known  already.  It's  a  dingy,  melum- 
colly  place,  to  my  mind  :  the  only  thing  moving  in  the 
streets  is  the  gutter  which  runs  down  'era.  As  for 
wooden  shoes,  I  saw  few  of  'em  ;  and  for  frogs,  upon 
my  honour,  I  never  see  a  single  Frenchman  swallow 
one,  which  I  had  been  led  to  beleave  was  their  reglar, 
though  beastly,  custom.  One  thing  which  amazed  me 
was  the  singlar  name  which  they  give  to  this  town  of 
Balong.  It's  divided,  as  every  boddy  knows,  into  an 
upper  town  (sityouate  on  a  mounting,  and  surrounded 
by  a  wall,  or  bulli/var),  and  a  lower  town,  which  is  on 
the  level  of  the  sea.  Well,  will  it  be  beheved  that  they 
call  the  upper  town  the  ITot  Veal,  and  the  other  the 
Base  Veal,  which  is,  on  the  con  try,  genrally  good  in 
France,  though  the  beaf  it  must  be  contest,  is  exscrabble. 

It  was  in  the  Base  Veal  that  Deuceace  took  his 
lodo'ian,  at  the  Hotel  de  Bano-  in  a  very  crooked  street 
called   the    Rue   del  Ascew;    and  if  he'd   been    the 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  ^9 


Arclibisliop  of  Devonshire,  or  the  Duke  of  Canterbury, 
he  could  not  have  given  himself  gi*eater  hairs,  I  can  tell 
you.  Nothink  was  too  fine  for  us  now;  we  had  a 
sweet  of  rooms  on  the  first  floor,  which  belonged  to  the 
prime  minister  of  France  (at  least  the  landlord  said  they 
were  the  premier'' s)  ;  and  the  Hon.  Algernon  Percy 
Deuceace,  who  had  not  paid  his  landriss,  and  came  to 
Dover  in  a  coach,  seamed  now  to  think  that  goold  was 
too  vulgar  for  him,  and  a  camdge  and  six  would  break 
down  with  a  man  of  his  weight.  Shampang  flew 
about  like  ginger-pop,  besides  bordo,  clarit,  burgundy, 
burgong,  and  other  wines,  and  all  the  dehxes  of  the. 
Balong  kitchins.  We  stopped  a  fortnit  at  this  dull 
place,  and  did  nothing  from  morning  to  night  excep 
walk  on  the  beach,  and  watch  the  ships  going  in  and  out 
of  arber ;  with  one  of  them  long,  sHding  opra-glasses, 
which  they  call,  I  don't  know  why,  tallow-scoops.  Our 
amusements  for  the  fortnit  we  stopt  here  were  boath 
numerous  and  dahteful ;  nothink,  in  fact,  could  be  more 
piclccmg,  as  they  say.  In  the  morning  before  breakfast, 
we  boath  walked  on  the  Peer  ;  master  in  a  blue  mareen 
jackit,  and  me  in  a  slap-up  new  li\Ty ;  both  provided 
with  long  shding  opra-glasses,  called  as  I  said  (I  don't 
know  Y,  but  I  spose  it's  a  scientafick  term)  tallow-scoops. 
With  these  we  igsamined,  very  attentively,  the  otion, 
the  sea-weed,  the  pebbles,  the  dead  cats,  the  fishwimmin, 
and  the  waives  (like  little  childi-en  playing  at  leap-frog), 
which  came  tumbling  over  1  and  other  on  to  the  shoar. 
It  seemed  to  me  as  if  they  were  scrambhng  to  get  there, 
as  well  they  might,  being  sick  of  the  sea,  and  anxious  for 
the  blessid,  peaceable  terry  firmy. 

After  brexfast,  down  we  went  again  (that  is,  master 


80  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

on  liis  beat,  and  me  on  mine, — for  my  place  in  this  for- 
ing  town  was  a  complete  shinycure)^  and  puttin  our 
tally-scoops  again  in  our  eyes,  we  egsamined  a  little 
more  the  otion,  pebbils,  dead  cats,  and  so  on ;  and  this 
lasted  till  dinner,  and  dinner  till  bed-time,  and  bed-time 
lasted  till  nex  day,  when  came  brexfast,  and  dinner,  and 
lally-scooping,  as  befoar.  This  is  the  way  with  all  peo- 
ple of  this  town,  of  which,  as  I've  heard  say,  there  is  ten 
thousand  happy  English,  who  lead  this  plesnt  life  from 
year's  end  to  year's  end. 

Besides  this,  there's  billiards  and  gambling  for  the 
gentlemen,  a  little  dancing  for  the  gals,  and  scandle  for 
the  dowygers.  In  none  of  these  amusements  did  we 
partake.  We  were  a  little  too  good  to  play  crown  pints 
at  cards,  and  never  get  paid  when  we  won  ;  or  to  go 
dangling  after  the  portionless  gals,  or  amuse  ourselves 
with  slops  and  penny-wist  along  with  the  old  ladies, 
No,  no  ;  my  master  was  a  man  of  fortun  now,  and  be- 
hayved  himself  as  sich.  If  ever  he  condysended  to  go 
into  the  pubUc  room  of  the  Hotel  de  Bang — the  French 
(doubtless  for  reasons  best  known  to  themselves)  call 
this  a  sallymanjy — he  swoar  more  and  lowder  than  any 
one  there ;  he  abyoused  the  waiters,  the  wittles,  the 
wines.  With  his  glas  in  his  i,  he  staired  at  every  body. 
He  took  always  the  place  before  the  fire.  He  talked 
about  "My  carridge,"  "My  currier,"  "My  servant;" 
and  he  did  wright.  I've  always  found  through  life, 
that  if  you  wish  to  be  respected  by  English  people,  you 
must  be  insalent  to  them,  especially  if  you're  a  sprig  of 
nobillaty.  We  like  being  insulted  by  noablemen, — it 
shows  they're  familiar  with  us.  Law  bless  us !  I've 
,  known  many  and  many  a  genlmn  about  town  who'd 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  81 


rather  be  kicked  by  a  lord  than  not  be  noticed  by  him  ; 
they've  even  had  an  aw  of  me^  because  I  was  a  lord's 
footman.  While  my  master  was  hectoring  in  the  parlor, 
at  Balong,  pretioiis  airs  I  gave  myself  in  the  kitching, 
I  can  tell  you  ;  and  the  consequints  was,  that  we  were 
better  served,  and  moar  liked,  than  many  pipple  ^ith 
t"«dce  our  merrit. 

Deuceace  had  some  particklar  plans,  no  doubt, 
which  kep  him  so  long  at  Balong  ;  and  it  clearly  was 
his  wish  to  act  the  man  of  fortune  there  for  a  little  time 
before  he  tried  the  character  of  Paris.  He  purchased  a 
carridge,  he  hired  a  currier,  he  rigged  me  in  a  fine  new 
livry  blazin  with  lace,  and  he  past  through  the  Balong 
bank  a  thousand  pounds  of  the  money  he  la  ad  won  from 
Daw  kins,  to  his  credit  at  a  Paris  house ;  showing  the 
Balong  bankers  at  the  same  time,  that  he'd  plenty  moar 
in  his  potfolie.  This  was  killin  two  birds  with  one  stone ; 
the  bankers'  clerks  spread  the  nuse  over  the  town,  and 
in  a  day  after  master  had  paid  the  money  every  old 
dowyger  in  Balong  had  looked  out  the  Crab's  family 
podigi-ee  in  the  Peeridge,  and  was  quite  intimate  with 
the  Deuceace  name  and  estates.  If  Sattn  himself  were 
a  Lord,  I  do  beleave  there's  many  vurtuous  English 
mothers  would  be  glad  to  have  him  for  a  son-in-law. 

Now,  though  my  master  had  thought  fitt  to  leave 
town  without  excommunicating  with  his  father  on  the 
subject  of  his  intended  continental  tripe,  as  soon  as  he 
was  settled  at  Balong  he  roat  my  lord  Crabbs  a  letter, 
of  which  I  happen  to  have  a  copy.     It  run  thus : — 

Boulogne,  January  25. 
♦  My  dear  Fathe]\ — I  have  long,  in  the  course  of  m^ 
3* 


82  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

legal  studies,  found  the  necessity  of  a  knowledge  of 
French,  in  which  language  all  the  early  history  of  our 
profession  is  written,  and  have  determined  to  take  a  lit- 
tle relaxation  from  chamber  reading,  which  has  seriously 
injured  my  health.  If  my  modest  finances  can  bear  a 
two  months'  journey,  and  a  residence  at  Paris,  I  propose 
to  remain  there  that  period. 

"  Will  you  have  the  kindness  to  send  me  a  letter  of 
introduction  to  Lord  Bobtail,  our  ambassador?  My 
name,  and  your  old  friendship  with  him,  I  know  would 
secure  me  a  reception  at  his  house  ;  but  a  pressing  letter 
from  yourself  would  at  once  be  more  courteous,  and 
more  effectual. 

"  May  I  also  ask  you  for  my  last  quarter's  salary  ? 
I  am  not  an  expensive  man,  my  dear  father,  as  you 
know ;  but  we  are  no  chameleons,  and  fifty  pounds 
(with  my  little  earnings  in  my  profession)  would  vastly 
add  to  the  agr^mens  of  my  continental  excursion. 

"  Present  my  love  to  all  my  brothers  and  sisters. 

Ah  !  how  I  ^vish  the  hard  portion  of  a  younger  son  had 

not  been  mine,  and  that  I  could  live  without  the  dh-e 

necessity  for  labour,  happy  among  the  rural  scenes  of 

my  childhood,  and  in  the  society  of  my  dear  sisters  and 

you !     Heaven  bless  you,  dearest  father,  and  all  those 

beloved  ones  now  dwelling  under  the  dear  old  roof  at 

Sizes. 

"  Ever  your  affectionate  son. 

"  Algernon. 
*•  The  Right  Hon.  the  Earl  of  Crabs,  &c. 
"  Sizes  Court,  Bucks." 

To  this  affeckshnat  letter  his  lordship  replied,  by  re- 
turn of  poa.'^i,  as  folios  i 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  83 


"  My  dear  Algernon, — Your  letter  came  safe  to  hand, 
and  I  enclose  you  the  letter  for  Lord  Bob*>^il  as  you  de- 
sire. He  is  a  kind  man,  and  has  one  of  the  best  cooks 
in  Europe. 

"We  were  all  charmed  with  your  warm  remem- 
brances of  us,  not  having  seen  you  for  seven  years.  We 
cannot  but  be  pleased  at  the  family  affection  which,  in 
spite  of  time  and  absence,  still  cHngs  so  fondly  to  home. 
It  is  a  sad,  selfish  world,  and  very  few  who  have  entered 
it  can  afiford  to  keep  those  fresh,  feelings  which  you  have, 
my  dear  son. 

"  May  you  long  retain  them,  is  a  fond  father's  ear- 
nest prayer.  Be  sure,  dear  Algernon,  that  they  will  be 
through  life  your  greatest  comfort,  as  well  as  your  best 
worldly  ally  ;  consohng  you  in  misfortune,  cheering  you 
in  depression,  aiding  and  inspiiing  you  to  exertion  and 
success. 

"  I  am  sorry,  truly  sorry,  that  my  account  at  Coutts's 
is  so  low,  just  now,  as  to  render  a  payment  of  your  al- 
lowance for  the  present  impossible.  I  see  by  my  book 
that  I  owe  you  now  nine  quarters,  or  4501.  Depend  on 
it,  my  dear  boy,  that  they  shall  be  faithfully  paid  over  to 
you  on  the  first  opportunity. 

"  By  the  way,  I  have  enclosed  some  extracts  from 
the  newspapers,  which  may  interest  you  :  and  have  re- 
ceived a  very  strange  letter  from  a  Mr.  Blewitt,  about  a 
play  transaction,  which,  I  suppose,  is  the  case  alluded  to 
in  these  prints.  He  says  you  won  4700^.  from  one 
Dawkins  ;  that  the  lad  paid  it ;  that  he,  Blewitt,  was  to 
go  what  he  calls  '  snacks'  in  the  winning ;  but  that 
you  refused  to  share  the  booty.  How  can  you,  my  dear 
boy,  quarrel  with  these  vulgar  people,  or  lay  yourself  in 


84  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

any  way  open  to  tlieir  attacks  ?  I  havt  played  myself 
a  good  deal,  and  there  is  no  man  living  who  can  accuse 
me  of  a  doubtful  act.  You  should  either  have  shot  this 
Blewitt  or  paid  him.  Now,  as  the  matter  stands,  it  is 
too  late  to  do  the  former ;  and,  perhaps,  it  would  be 
Quixotic  to  perform  the  latter.  My  dearest  boy !  re- 
collect through  Hfe  that  you  never  can  afford  to  be  dis- 
honest with  a  rogue.  Two  thousand  four  hundred 
pounds  was  a  gi-eat  coup  to  be  sure. 

"As  you  are  now  in  such  high  feather,  can  you, 
dearest  Algernoon  !  lend  me  five  hundred  pounds  ? 
Upon  my  soul  and  honour,  I  will  repay  you.  Your 
brothers  and  sisters  send  you  their  love.  I  need  not 
add,  that  you  have  always  the  blessings  of  your  affec- 
tionate father. 

"  Crabs. 

"P.  S. — Make  it  550,  and  I  will  give  you  my  note 

of  hand  for  a  thousand." 

***** 

I  neadnt  say,  that  this  did  not  quite  enter  into 
Deuceace's  eyedears.  Lend  his  father  500  pound,  in- 
deed !  He'd  as  soon  have  lent  him  a  box  on  the  year ! 
In  the  fust  place,  he  hadn  seen  old  Crabs  for  seven 
years,  as  that  nobleman  remarked  in  his  epistol ;  in  the 
secknd,  he  hated  him,  and  they  hated  each  other  ;  and 
nex,  if  master  had  loved  his  father  ever  so  much,  he 
loved  somebody  else  better — his  father's  son,  namely  : 
and,  sooner  than  deprive  that  exlent  young  man  of  a 
penny,  he'd  have  sean  all  the  fathers  in  the  world 
hangin  at  Newgat,  and  all  the  "  beloved  ones."  as  he 


MR.    DEUCEACE. 


called  his  sisters,  the  Lady  Deuceacisses,  so  many  con- 
vix  at  Bottomy  Bay. 

The  newspaper  paiTOgrafs  showed  that,  howevei 
secret  we  ^dshed  to  keep  the  play  transaction,  the  public 
know  it  now  full  well.  Blewitt,  as  I  found  after,  was 
the  author  of  the  libles  which  appeared,  right  and  left : 

"Gambling  ix  High  Life:  the  Honorable  Mr.  De — c — c€ 
again! — This  celebrated  whist-player  has  turned  his  accom- 
plishments to  some  profit.  On  Friday,  the  16th  January,  he 
won  five  thousand  pounds  from  a  very  yoang  gentleman, 
Th — m — 3  Sm — th  D — wk — ns,  Esq.,  and  lost  two  thousand 
five  hundred  to  R.  Bl— w— tt,  Esq.,  of  the  T— mple.  Mr.  D. 
very  honourably  paid  the  sum  lost  by  him  to  the  honourable 
whist-player,  but  we  have  not  heard  that,  before  his  sudden 
trip  to  Paris,  Mr.  D — uc — ce  paid  his  losings  to  Mr. 
Bl— w— tt" 

Kex  came  a  "  Kotice  to  Corryspondents  :" 

"  Fair  Play  asks  us,  if  we  know  of  the  gambling  doings  of 
the  notorious  Deuceace  ?     "We  answer,  We  do  ;  and,  in  our 
very  next  Xumber,  propose  to  make  some  of  them  public." 
***** 

They  didn't  appear,  however  ;  but,  on  the  contry, 
the  very  same  newspepper,  which  had  been  before  so 
abusiff  of  Deuceace,  was  now  loud  in  his  praise.     It  said : 

"A  paragraph  was  inadvertently  admitted  into  our  paper 
of  last  week,  most  unjustly  assailing  the  character  of  a  gentle- 
man of  high  birth  and  talents,  the  son  of  the  exemplary  E — rl 
of  Cr — bs.  "We  repel,  with  scorn  and  indignation,  the  das- 
tardly falsehoods  of  the  malignant  slanderer  wh3  vilhfied  Mr» 
De— ce— ce,  and  beg  to  offer  that  gentleman  the  only  repara- 
tion in  our  power  for  having  thus  tampered  with  his  unsullied 


86  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

name.  We  disbelieve  the  ruffian  and  his  story,  fc.nd  most  sin- 
cerelj  regret  that  such  a  tale,  or  such  a  writer,  should  ever 
have  been  brought  forward  to  the  readers  of  this  paper." 

This  was  satisfactory,  and  no  mistake;  and  mucli 
pleased  we  were  at  the  denial  of  this  conshentioiis  editor. 
So  much  pleased,  that  master  sent  him  a  ten-pound 
noat,  and  his  complymints.  He'd  sent  another  to  the 
same  address,  hefore  this  parrowgraff  was  printed ;  why^ 
I  can't  think  :  for  I  woodnt  suppose  any  thing  musnary 
in  a  littery  man. 

Well,  after  this  bisniss  was  concluded,  the  currier 
hired,  the  carridge  smartened  a  little,  and  me  set  up  in 
my  new  li\Ties,  we  bade  ajew  to  Bulong  in  the  gi-andest 
state  posbill.  What  a  figger  we  cut !  and,  my  i,  what 
a  figger  the  postillion  cut !  A  cock-hat,  a  jackit  made 
out  of  a  cow's  skin  (it  was  in  cold  weather),  a  pig-tale 
about  3  fit  in  lenth,  and  a  pare  of  boots !  Oh,  sich  a 
pare !  A  bishop  might  almost  have  preached  out  of 
one,  or  a  modrat-sized  famly  slep  iii  it.  Me  and  Mr. 
Schwigschnaps,  the  cm-rier,  sate  behind,  in  the  rumbill ; 
master  aloan  in  the  inside,  as  gi-and  as  a  Turk,  and 
rapt  up  in  his  fine  fir-cloak.  Off  we  sett,  bowing 
gracefly  |o  the  crowd ;  the  harniss-bells  jinglin,  the  great 
white  bosses  snortin,  kickin,  and  squeelin,  and  the 
postillium  cracking  his  wip,  as  loud  as  if  he'd  been 
drivin  her  majesty  the  quean. 

***** 

Well,  I  shant  describe  our  voyitch.  We  passed 
sefral  sitties,  willitches,  and  metrappolishes ;  sleeping 
the  fust  night  at  Amiens,  witch,  as  every  boddy  knows, 
is  famous  ever  since  the  year  1802  for  what's  called  the 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  87 


Pease  of  Amiens.  We  had  some,  very  good,  done  with 
siio;ar  and  brown  sos,  in  the  Amiens  wav.  But,  after 
all  the  boasting  about  them,  I  think  I  like  our  marrow- 
phats  better. 

Speaking  of  wedgytables,  another  singler  axdent 
happened  here  concarning  them.  Master,  who  was 
brexfasting  before  going  away,  told  me  to  go  and  get 
him  his  fm-  travling-shoes.  I  went  and  toald  the  waiter 
of  the  inn,  who  stared,  giinned  (as  these  chaps  always 
do),  said  "  Bo7ig "  (which  means,  very  well),  and 
presently  came  back. 

Fm  blest  if  he  didn't  bring  master  a  plate  ofcabbitch  ! 
Would  you  bleave  it,  that  now,  in  the  nineteenth  sen- 
try, when  they  say  there's  schoolmasters  abroad,  these 
stewpid  French  jackasses  are  so  extonishingly  ignorant 
as  to  call  a  cabbidge  a  shoo !  Never,  never  let  it  be 
said,  after  this,  that  these  benighted,  souperstitious, 
misrabble  savidges,  are  equill,  in  any  respex,  to  the  gTeat 
Brittisli  people !  The  moor  I  travvle,  the  moor  I  see 
the  world,  and  other  natiums,  I  am  proud  of  my  own, 
and  despise  and  deplore  the  retchid  ignorance  of  the 
rest  of  Your  up. 

*  ¥:  *  *  v: 

My  remark  on  Parris  you  shall  have  by  an  early 
opportunity.  Me  and  Deauceace  played  some  cmious 
pranx  there,  I  can  tell  you. 


88  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 


MR.  DEUCEACE  AT  PARIS. 
CHAPTER  I. 

THE   TWO    BUNTDLES    OF   HAY. 

Leftenant-general  Sir  George  Griffin,  K.  C.  B., 
was  about  seventy-five  years  old  when  he  left  this  life, 
and  the  East  Ingine  army,  of  which  he  was  a  dis- 
tinguisht  ornyment.  Sir  George's  first  appearance  in 
Injar  was  in  the  character  of  a  cabbingboy  to  a  vessel ; 
from  which  he  rose  to  be  clerk  to  the  owners  at  Cal- 
cutta, from  which  he  became  all  of  a  sudden  a  capting 
in  the  Company's  service ;  and  so  rose  and  rose,  until 
he  rose  to  be  a  leftenant-general,  when  he  stopped 
rising  all  together — hopping  the  twigg  of  this  life,  as 
drummers,  generals,  dustmen,  and  emprors,  must  do. 

Sir  George  did  not  leave  any  mal  hair  to  per- 
patuate  the  name  of  Grifiin.  A  widow  of  about  twenty- 
seven,  and  a  daughter  avaritching  twenty-three,  was 
left  behind  to  deploar  his  loss,  and  share  his  proppaty. 
On  old  Sir  Georg^e's  deth,  his  intrestina^  widdo  and  orfan, 
who  had  both  been  with  him  in  Injer,  returned  home 
— tried  London  for  a  few  months,  did  not  like  it,  and 
resolved  on  a  trip  to  Paris,  where  very  small  London 
people  become  very  great  ones,  if  they've  money,  as 
these  Griffinses  had.     The  inteihgent  reader  kneed  not 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  89 


be  told  that  Miss  Griffin  was  not  the  daughter  of  Lady 
Griffin  ;  for  though  marritches  are  made  toh-abbly  early 
in  Injer,  people  are  not  quite  so  precoashoos  as  all  that : 
the  fact  is,  Lady  G.  was  Sir  George's  second  wife.  I 
need  scarcely  add,  that  Miss  Matilda  Griffin  was  the 
offspring  of  his  fust  marritch. 

Miss  Leonora  Kicksey,  a  ansum,  lively  Islington 
gal,  taken  out  to  Calcutta,  and,  amongst  his  other 
goods,  very  comfortably  disposed  of  by  her  uncle, 
Capting  Kicksey,  was  one-and-twenty  when  she  mar- 
ried Sir  George  at  seventy-one ;  and  the  13  Miss  Kick- 
seys,  nine  of  whom  kep  a  school  at  Islington  (the  other 
4  being  married  variously  in  the  city),  were  not  a  little 
envius  of  my  lady's  luck,  and  not  a  little  proud  of  their 
relationship  to  her.  One  of  'em,  Miss  Jemima  Kicksey, 
the  oldest,  and  by  no  means  the  least  ugly  of  the  sett, 
was  staying  with  her  ladyship,  and  gev  me  all  the  par- 
tecklars.  Of  the  rest  of  the  famly,  being  of  a  lo  sort,  I 
in  course  no  nothink;  my  acquaintance,  thank  my 
stars,  don't  lie  among  them,  or  the  likes  of  them. 

Well,  this  Miss  Jemima  lived  with  her  younger  and 
more  fortnat  sister,  in  the  qualaty  of  companion,  or 
toddy.  Poar  thing !  I'd  a  soon  be  a  gaily  slave,  as 
lead  the  life  she  did  !  Every  body  in  the  house  despised 
her;  her  ladyship  insulted  her;  the  very  kitching gals 
scorned  and  flouted  her.  She  roat  the  notes,  she  kep 
the  bills,  she  made  the  tea,  she  whipped  the  chocklate, 
she  cleaned  the  Canary  birds,  and  gev  out  the  linning 
for  the  wash.  She  was  my  lady's  walking  pocket,  or 
ryttycule ;  and  fetched  and  carried  her  handkercher,  or 
her  smell-bottle,  like  a  well-bred  spaniel.  All  night,  at 
her  ladyship's  swarries,  she  thumped  kidrills  (nobody 


90  THE   TELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 


ever  thought  of  asking  her  to  dance!);  when  Miss 
Griffing  sung,  she  played  the  piano,  and  was  scolded 
because  the  singer  was  out  of  tune;  abommanating 
dogs,  she  never  drove  out  without  her  ladyship's  pud- 
dle in  her  lap  ;  and,  reglarly  unwell  in  a  carridge,  she 
never  got  any  thing  but  the  back  seat.  Poar  Jemima ! 
I  can  see  her  now  in  my  lady's  secknd-best  old  clothes 
(the  ladies-maids  always  got  the  prime  leavings)  :  a 
liloc  sattn  gown,  crumpled,  blotched,  and  greasy ;  a 
pair  of  white  sattn  shoes,  of  the  colour  of  Inger  rubber ; 
a  faded  yellow  velvet  hat,  with  a  wreath  of  hartifishl 
flowers  run  to  sead,  and  a  bird  of  Parrowdice  perched 
on  the  top  of  it,  melumcolly  and  moulting,  with  only  a 
couple  of  feathers  left  in  his  unfortunate  tail. 

Besides  this  ornyment  to  their  saloon.  Lady  and 
Miss  Griffin  kep  a  number  of  other  servants  in  the 
kitching ;  2  ladies-maids ;  2  footmin,  six  feet  high  each, 
crimson  coats,  goold  knots,  and  white  cass3raiear  panty- 
loons ;  a  coachmin  to  match ;  a  page :  and  a  Shassure, 
a  kind  of  servant  only  known  among  forriners,  and  who 
looks  more  like  a  major-general  than  any  other  mortial, 
"  wearing  a  cock-hat,  a  unicorn  covered  with  silver  lace, 
mustashos,  eplets,  and  a  sword  by  his  side.  All  these 
to  wait  upon  two  ladies ;  not  counting  a  host  of  the 
fair  six,  such  as  cooks,  scullion,  housekeepers,  and  so 
forth. 

;My  Lady  Griffin's  lodging  was  at  forty  pound  a 
week,  in  a  grand  sweet  of  rooms  in  the  Plas  Vandome 
at  Paris.  And,  having  thus  described  their  house,  and 
their  servants'  hall,  I  may  give  a  few  words  of  descrip- 
tion concerning  the  ladies  themselves. 

In  the  fust  place,  and  in  coarse,  they  hated  each 


MR.    DEUCE  ACE.  91 


other.  My  lady  was  twenty-seven — a  widdo  of  two 
years — fat,  fair,  and  rosy.  A  slow,  quiet,  cold-looking 
woman,  as  those  fair-liau-ed  gals  generally  are,  it  seem- 
ed difficult  to  rouse  her  either  into  likes  or  dislikes ;  to 
the  former,  at  least.  She  never  loved  any  body  but 
one,  and  that,  was  herself.  She  hated,  in  her  calm, 
quiet  way,  almost  every  one  else  who  came  near  her — 
every  one,  from  her  neighbour  the  duke,  who  had 
slighted  her  at  dinner,  down  to  John  the  footman,  who 
had  torn  a  hole  in  her  train.  I  think  this  woman's 
heart  was  Hke  one  of  them  hthograffic  stones,  you 
can't  rub  out  any  thing  when  once  it's  drawn  or  wrote 
on  it ;  nor  could  you  out  of  her  ladyship's  stone — 
heart,  I  mean — in  the  shape  of  an  affront,  a  slight, 
or  real  or  phansied  injury.  She  boar  an  exlent,  irre- 
protchable  character,  against  which  the  tongue  of  scan- 
die  never  wagged.  She  was  allowed  to  be  the  best 
wife  posbill — and  so  she  was  ;  but  she  killed  her  old 
husband  in  two  years,  as  dead  as  ever  Mr.  Thurtell 
killed  Mr.  Wilham  Weare.  She  never  got  into  a  pas- 
sion, not  she — she  never  said  a  rude  word ;  but  she'd 
a  genius — a  genius  which  many  women  have — of 
making  a  hell  of  a  house,  and  tort'ring  the  poor  crea- 
tures of  her  family,  until  they  were  wellnigh  drove 
mad. 

Miss  Matilda  Gi-iffin  was  a  good  deal  uglier,  and 
about  as  amiable  as  her  mother-in-law.  She  was 
crooked,  and  squinted ;  my  lady,  to  do  her  justice,  was 
straight,  and  looked  the  same  way  with  her  i's.  She 
was  dark,  and  my  lady  was  fan* — sentimental,  as  her 
ladyship  was  cold.  My  lady  was  never  in  a  passion — 
Miss   Matilda   always;    and   awfllle   were   the   scenes 


92  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 


which  used  to  pass  between  thest  2  women,  and  the 
wickid,  wickid  quarls  which  took  place.  Why  did 
they  Hve  together  ?  There  was  the  mistry.  Not  re- 
lated, and  hating  each  other  like  pison,  it  would  surely 
have  been  easier  to  remain  seprat,  and  so  have  detest- 
ed each  other  at  a  distans. 

As  for  the  fortune  which  old  Sir  George  had  left, 
that,  it  was  clear,  was  very  consi drabble — 300  thow- 
snd  lb.  at  the  least,  as  I  have  heard  say.  But  nobody 
knew  how  it  was  disposed  of  Some  said  that  her 
ladyship  was  sole  mistriss  of  it,  others  that  it  was  divid- 
ed, others  that  she  had  only  a  life  inkum,  and  that  the 
money  was  all  to  go  (as  was  natral)  to  Miss  Matilda. 
These  are  subjix  which  are  not,  praps,  very  interesting 
to  the  British  public ;  but  were  mighty  important  to 
my  master,  the  Honrable  Algernon  Percy  Deuceace, 
esquire,  barrister-at-law,  etsettler,  etsettler. 

For  I've  forgot  to  inform  you  that  my  master  was 
very  intimat  in  this  house ;  and  that  we  were  now 
comfortably  settled  at  the  Hotel  Mirabew  (pronounced 
Marobo  in  French),  in  the  Rew  delly  Pay,  at  Paris. 
We  had  our  cab,  and  two  riding  horses ;  om*  banker's 
book,  and  a  thousand  pound  for  a  balants  at  Lafitt's ; 
our  club  at  the  corner  of  the  Rew  Gramong ;  our  share 
of  a  box  at  the  oppras ;  our  apartments,  spacious  and 
elygant ;  our  swarries  at  court ;  our  dinners  at  his  ex- 
lency  Lord  Bobtail's  and  elsewhere.  Thanks  to  poar 
Dawkins's  five  thousand  pound,  we  were  as  complete 
gentlemen  as  any  in  Paris. 

Now  mv  master,  like  a  wise  man  as  he  was,  seains: 
himself  at  the  head  of  a  smart  sum  of  money,  and  in 
a  country  where  his  debts  could  not  bother  him,  deter- 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  93 


mined  to  give  up  for  the  presnt  every  think  like  gam- 
bling— at  least,  high  play  ;  as  for  losing  or  ^vinning  a 
ralow  of  N'apoleums  at  whist  or  ecarty,  it  did  not  mat- 
ter :  it  looks  like  money  to  do  such  things,  and  gives  a 
kind  of  respectabillaty.  "  But  as  for  play,  he  wouldn't 
— O  no  !  not  for  worlds ! — do  such  a  thino-."  He  had 
played,  like  other  young  men  of  fashn  and  won  and 
lost  [old  fox  !  he  didn't  say  he  had  paid\  ;  but  he  had 
given  up  the  amusement,  and  was  now  determined, 
he  said,  to  live  on  his  inkum."  The  fact  is,  my  master 
was  doing  his  very  best  to  act  the  respectable  man : 
and  a  very  good  game  it  is,  too ;  but  it  requires  a  pre- 
cious great  roag  to  play  it. 

He  made  his  appearans  reglar  at  church — me 
carrying  a  handsome  large  black  marocky  Prayer-book 
and  Bible,  with  the  psalms  and  lessons  marked  out 
with  red  ribbings ;  and  you'd  have  thought,  as  I  graiv- 
ly  laid  the  voUoms  down  before  him,  and  as  he  berried 
his  head  in  his  nicely  brushed  hat,  before  survlce  began, 
that  such  a  pious,  proper,  morl,  young  nobleman  was 
not  to  be  found  in  the  whole  of  the  peeridge.  It  was 
a  comfort  to  look  at  him.  Efry  old  tabby  and  dowy- 
ger  at  mv  Lord  Bobtail's  turned  up  the  %vi2:hts  of  their 
i's  when  they  spoke  of  him,  and  vowed  they  had  never 
seen  such  a  dear,  daliteful,  exlent  young  man.  What 
a  good  son  he  must  be,  they  said ;  and,  oh,  what  a 
good  son-in-law  !  He  had  the  pick  of  all  the  Eng- 
lish gals  at  Paris  before  we  had  been  there  3  months. 
But,  unfortnatly,  most  of  them  were  poar ;  and  love 
and  a  cottidge  was  not  quite  in  master's  way  of  thinking 

Well,  about  this  time  my  Lady  GriflSn  and  Miss  G. 
maid  their  appearants  at  Parris,  and  master,  who  was 


94  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

up  to  snough,  very  soon  changed  his  noat.  He  sate 
near  them  at  chappie,  and  sung  hims  with  my  lady : 
he  danced  with  'em  at  the  embassy  balls  ;  he  road  with 
them  m  the  Boy  de  Balong  and  the  Shandeleasies 
(which  is  the  French  High  Park) ;  he  roat  potry  in 
Miss  GriflBn's  halbim,  and  sang  jewets  along  with  her  and 
Lady  Griffin ;  he  brought  sweat-meats  for  th-e  puddle- 
dog  ;  he  gave  money  to  the  footmin,  kissis  and  gloves 
to  the  sniggering  ladies-maids ;  he  was  siwle  even  to 
poar  Miss  Kicksey ;  there  wasn't  a  single  soal  at  the 
Griffinses  that  didn't  adoar  this  good  young  man. 

The  ladies,  if  they  hated  befoar,  you  may  be  sure 
detested  each  other  now  wuss  than  ever.  There  had 
been  always  a  jallowsy  between  them ;  miss  jellows  of 
her  mother-in-law's  bewty ;  madam  of  miss's  espree : 
miss  tauntmg  my  lady  about  the  school  at  Islington, 
and  my  lady  snearing  at  miss  for  her  squint  and  her 
crookid  back.  And  now  came  a  stronger  caws.  They 
both  fell  in  love  with  Mr.  Deuceace — my  lady,  that  is 
to  say,  as  much  as  she  could,  with  her  cold  selfish  tem- 
per. She  liked  Deuceace,  who  amused  her  and  made 
her  lafF.  She  liked  his  manners,  his  riding,  and  his 
good  loox ;  and,  being  a  pervinew  herself,  had  a  dubble 
respect  for  real  aristocratick  flesh  and  blood.  Miss's 
love,  on  the  contry,  was  all  flams  and  fury.  She'd 
always  been  at  this  work  from  the  time  she  had  been 
at  school,  where  she  very  nigh  run  away  with  a  Frentch 
master;  next  with  a  footman  (which  I  may  say,  in 
confidence,  is  by  no  means  unnatral  or  unusyouall,  as  T 
could  shew  if  I  liked) ;  and  so  had  been  going  on  sms 
fifteen.  She  reglarly  flung  herself  at  Deuceace's  head 
— such  sighing,  crying,  and  ogling,  I  never  see     Often 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  93 


was  I  ready  to  bust  out  laiEii,  as  I  brought  master 
skoars  of  rose-coloured  billi/doos,  folded  up  like  cock- 
hats,  and  smellin  hke  barber's  shops,  which  this  very 
tender  young  lady  used  to  address  to  him.  Now, 
though  master  was  a  scoundiill,  and  no  mistake,  he 
was  a  gentlemin,  and  a  man  of  good  breading ;  and 
miss  came  a  little  too  strong  (pai'don  the  wulgarity  of 
the  xpression)  with  her  hardor  and  attachmint,  for  one 
of  his  taste.  Besides,  she  had  a  crookid  spine,  and  a 
squint ;  so  that  (supposing  their  fortns  tolrabbly  equal) 
Deuceace  reely- preferred  tne  mother-in-law. 

Now,  then,  it  was  his  bisniss  to  find  out  which  had 
the  most  money.  With  an  English  famly  this  would 
have  been  easy  :  a  look  at  a  will  at  Doctor  Commons'es 
would  settle  the  matter  at  once.  But  this  India  naybob's 
will  was  at  Calcutty,  or  some  outlandish  place ;  and 
there  was  no  getting  sight  of  a  coppy  of  it.  I  Avill  do 
Mr.  Algernon  Deuceace  the  justass  to  say,  that  he  was 
so  little  musnary  in  his  love  for  Lady  Griffin,  that  he 
would  have  married  her  gladly,  even  if  she  had  ten 
thousand  pounds  less  than  Miss  Matilda.  In  the  mean 
time,  his  plan  was  to  keep  'em  both  in  play,  until  he 
could  strike  the  best  fish  of  the  two — not  a  difficult 
matter  for  a  man  of  his  genus ;  besides,  Miss  was 
hooked  for  certain. 

CHAPTER  II. 
"honoub,  thy  father." 

I  SAID  that  my  master  was  ad  oared  by  every  person  in 
my  Lady  Griffin's  establishmint.     I  should  have  said 


96  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

by  every  person  excep  one, — a  young  French  gnlmn, 
that  is,  who,  before  our  appearants,  had  been  mighty 
particklar  with  my  lady,  ockupying  by  her  side  exackly 
the  same  pasition,  which  the  Honrabble  Mr.  Deuceace 
now  held.  It  was  bewtiffle  and  headifying  to  see  how 
coolly  that  young  nobleman  kicked  the  poar  Shevalliay 
de  L'Orge  out  of  his  shoes,  and  how  gracefully  he  him- 
self stept  into  'em.  Munseer  de  L'Orge  was  a  smart 
young  French  jentleman,  of  about  my  master's  age  and 
good  looks,  but  not  possest  of  ^  my  master's  impidince. 
Not  that  that  quallaty  is  uncommon  in  France  ;  but 
few,  very  few,  had  it  to  such  a  degree  as  my  exlent  em- 
ployer, Mr.  Deuceace.  Besides  De  L'Orge  was  reglarly 
and  reely  in  love  wdth  Lady  Griffin,  and  master  only 
pretending :  he  had,  of  coars,  an  advantitch,  which  the 
poar  Frentchman  never  could  git.  He  was  all  smiles 
and  gaty,  while  Delorge  was  ockward  and  melumcolly. 
My  master  had  said  twenty  pretty  things  to  Lady  Griffin, 
befor  the  shevalier  had  finished  smoothing  his  hat, 
staring  at  her,  and  sighing  fit  to  bust  his  w^eskit.  O 
luv,  luv  1  This  is'nt  the  way  to  win  a  woman,  or  my 
name's  not  Fitzroy  Yellowplush  !  Myself,  when  I  begun 
my  carear  among  the  fair  six,  I  was  always  sighing  and 
moping,  like  this  poar  Frenchman.  What  was  the  cons- 
quints  ?  The  foar  fust  women  I  adoared  lafl't  at  me, 
and  left  me  for  somethink  more  lively.  With  the  rest 
I  have  edopted  a  diffrent  game,  and  with  tolrabble 
suxess,  I  can  tell  you.  But  this  is  eggatism,  which  I 
aboar. 

Well,  the  long  and  the  short  of  it  is,  that  Munseer 
Ferdinand  Hyppolite  Xavier  Stanislas,  Shevalier  de 
L'Orge,  was  reglar  cut  out  by  Munseer  Algernon  Percy 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  97 


Deuceace,  Exqiiire.  Poar  Ferdinand  did  not  leave  the 
house — he  had'nt  the  heart  to  do  that — nor  had  my 
lady  the  desire  to  dismiss  him.  He  was  usefle  in  a 
thousand  diftrent  ways,  gitting  oppra  boxes,  and  imita- 
tions to  Frentch  swarries,  hying  gloves,  and  O  de  Colong, 
writing  French  noats,  and  such  like.  Always  let  me 
recommend  an  English  famly,  going  to  Paris,  to  have 
at  least  one  young  man  of  the  sort  about  them.  Never 
mind  how  old  your  ladyship  is,  he  will  make  love  to 
you  ;  never  mind  what  errints  you  send  him  upon,  he'll 
trot  off  and  do  them.  Besides,  he's  always  quite  and 
well-dresst,  and  never  drinx  moar  than  a  pint  of  wine  at 
dinner,  which  (as  I  say)  is  a  pint  to  consider.  Such  a 
conveniants  of  a  man  was  Munseer  de  L'Orge — the 
greatest  use  and  comfort  to  my  lady  posbill ;  if  it  was 
but  to  laff  at  his  bad  pronunciatium  of  English,  it  was 
somethink  amusink  :  the  fun  was  to  pit  him  against 
poar  Miss  Kicksey,  she  speakin  French,  and  ho  our 
naytif  British  tong. 

My  master,  to  do  him  justace,  was  perfickly  sivvle 
to  this  poar  young  Frenchman ;  and,  having  kicked 
him  out  of  the  place  which  he  occupied,  sertingly  treated 
his  fallen  anymy  with  every  respect  and  consideration. 
Poar  modist  down-hearted  httle  Ferdinand  adoared  my 
lady  as  a  goddice  ;  and  so  he  was  very  polite,  likewise, 
to  my  master — never  ventring  once  to  be  jellows  of  him, 
or  to  question  my  Lady  GriflSn's  right  to  change  her 
lover,  if  she  choase  to  do  so. 

Thus,  then,  matters  stood  ;  master  had  two  strinx  to 

his  bo,  and  might  take  either  the  widdo  or  the  orfii,  as  he 

preferred :  com  hong  Iwee  somblay^  as  the  Frentch  say 

His  only  pint  was  to  discover  how  the  money  was  dis- 

5 


98  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

posed  off,  which  evidently  belonged  to  one  or  other,  or 

boath.     At  any  rate,  he  was  sure  of   one  ;  as  sure  as 

any  mortial  man  can  be  in  this  sublimary  spear,  where 

nothink  is  suttn  excep  unsertnty. 

%  *  %  %  ^ 

A  very  unixpected  insdint  here  took  place,  which 
in  a  good  deal  changed  my  master's  calkylations. 

One  night,  after  conducting  the  two  ladies  to  the 
oppra,  after  suppink  of  white  soop,  sammy-deperdrow, 
and  shampang  glassy  (which  means,  eyced),  at  their 
house  in  the  Plas  Yandom,  me  and  master  droav  hoam 
in  the  cab,  as  happy  as  possbill. 

"  Chawls,  you  d — d  scoundrel,"  says  he  to  me  (for 
he  was  in  an  exlent  humer),  "  when  I'm  marrid,  I'll 
dubbil  yom*  wagis." 

This  he  might  do,  to  be  sure,  without  injaring  him- 
self, seeing  that  he  had  as  yet  never  paid  me  any.  But, 
what  then  ?  Law  bless  us !  things  would  be  at  a  pretty 
pass  if  we  suvvants  only  lived  on  our  wagis  ;  our  puckwi- 
sits  is  the  thing,  and  no  mistake. 

I  ixprest  my  gratatude  as  best  I  could  ;  swoar  that 
it  wasnt  for  wagis  I  served  him — that  I  would  as  leaf 
weight  upon  him  for  nothink ;  and  that  never,  never, 
so  long  as  I  livd,  would  I,  of  my  own  acord,  part  from 
such  an  exlent  master.  By  the  time  these  two  spitches 
had  been  made — my  spitch  and  his — we  arrived  at  the 
Hotel  Mirabeu  ;  which,  as  every  body  knows,  aint  very 
distant  from  the  Plas  Vandome.  Up  we  marched  to 
our  apartmince,  me  carrying  the  light  and  the  cloax, 
master  hummink  a  hair  out  of  the  oppra,  as  merry  as  a 
lark. 

I  opened  the  door  of  our  salong.     There  was  lights 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  99 


alrealy  in  the  room  ;  an  empty  shampang  bottle  roal- 
ing  on  the  floar,  another  on  the  table  ;  near  which  the 
sofy  was  drawn,  and  on  it  lay  a  stout  old  -genlmn, 
smoaking  seagars  as  if  he'd  bean  in  an  inn  tap-room. 

Deuceace  (who  abommanates  seagars,  as  I've  already 
shewn)  bust  into  a  furious  raige  against  the  genlmn, 
whom  he  could  hardly  see  for  the  smoak ;  and,  with  a 
number  of  oaves  quite  unnecessary  to  repeat,  asked  him 
what  bisniss  he'd  there. 

The  smoakin  chap  rose,  and,  laying  down  his  sea- 
gar,  began  a  ror  of  laffin,  and  said,  "  What  Algy !  my 
boy !  don't  you  know  me  ?" 

The  reader  may,  praps,  recklect  a  very  affecting  let- 
ter which  was  pubhshed  in  the  last  chapter  of  these 
memoars ;  in  which  the  writer  requested  a  loan  of  five 
himdred  pound  from  Mr.  Algernon  Deuceace,  and  which 
boar  the  respected  signatur  of  the  Earl  of  Crabs,  Mr. 
Deuceace's  own  father.  It  was  that  distinguished  aras- 
tycrat  who  was  now  smokin  and  laflBn  in  om*  room. 

My  Lord  Crabs  was,  as  I  preshumed,  about  60  years 
old.  A  stowt,  burly,  red-faced,  bald-headed  nobleman, 
whose  nose  seemed  blushing  at  what  his  mouth  was 
continually  swallowing;  whose  hand,  praps,  trembled  a 
little ;  and  whose  thy  and  legg  was  not  quite  so  full  or 
as  steddy  as  they  had  been  in  former  days.  But  he 
was  a  respecktabble,  fine-looking,  old  nobleman ;  and 
though,  it  must  be  confest,  ^  drunk  when  we  fust  made 
our  appearance  in  the  salong,  yet  by  no  means  moor  so 
than  a  reel  noblemin  ought  to  be. 

"  What,  Algy  1  my  boy !"  shouts  out  his  lordship, 
advancing  and  seasing  master  by  the  hand,  "doan't 
you  know  your  own  father?" 


100  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

Master  seemed  anythink  but  overliappy.  "  My 
lord,"  says  lie,  looking  very  pail,  and  speakin  raythei 
slow,  "  I  didn't — I  confess — the  unexpected  pleasure — 
of  seeing  you  in  Paris.  The  fact  is,  sir,"  said  he,  re- 
covering himself  a  little  ;  "  the  fact  is,  there  was  such 
a  confounded  smoke  of  tobacco  in  the  room,  that  I  really 
could  not  see  who  the  stranger  was  who  had  paid  me 
such  an  unexpected  visit." 

"  A  bad  habit,  Algernon ;  a  bad  habit,"  said  my 
lord,  lighting  another  segar  :  "  a  disgusting  and  filthy 
practice,  which  you,  my  dear  child,  will  do  well  to  avoid. 
It  is  at  best,  dear  Algernon,  but  a  nasty,  idle  pastime, 
unfitting  a  man  as  well  for  mental  exertion  as  for  re- 
spectable society ;  sacrificing,  at  once,  the  vigour  of  the 
intellect  and  the  graces  of  the  person.  By  the  by,  what 
infernal  bad  tobacco  they  have,  too,  in  this  hotel 
Could  not  you  send  your  servant  to  get  me  a  few  se- 
gars  at  the  Cafe  de  Paris  ?  Give  him  a  five-franc  piece, 
and  let  him  go  at  once,  that's  a  good  fellow." 

Here  his  lordship  hiccupt,  and  drank  off  a  fresh 
tumbler  of  shampang.  Very  sulkily,  master  drew  out 
the  coin,  and  sent  me  on  the  errint. 

Knowing  the  Cafe  de  Paris  to  be  shut  at  that  hour, 
I  didn't  say  a  word,  but  quietly  establisht  myself  in  the 
anteroom ;  where,  as  it  happened  by  a  singler  coinst- 
dints,  I  could  hear  every  word  of  the  conversation  be- 
tween this  exlent  pair  of  relatife. 

"Help  yourself,  and  get  another  bottle,"  says  my 
lord,  after  a  solium  paws.  My  poar  master,  the  king  of 
all  other  compnies  in  which  he  moved,  seamed  here  but 
to  play  secknd  fiddill,  and  went  to  the  cubbard,  from 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  ICX 


which  his  father  had  already  igstracted  two  bottils  of 
his  prime  Sillary. 

He  put  it  down  before  his  father,  coft,  spit,  opened 
the  windows,  stiiTed  the  fii-e,  yawned,  clapt  his  hand  to 
his  forehead,  and  suttnly  seamed  as  uneezy  as  a  genlmn 
could  be.  But  it  was  of  no  use ;  the  old  one  would  not 
budg.  "  Help  yourself,"  says  he  again,  "  and  pass  me 
the  bottil." 

"  You  are  very  good,  father,"  says  master ;  "  but 
really,  I  neither  drink  nor  smoke." 

"  Right,  my  boy  :  quite  right.  Talk  about  a  good 
conscience  in  this  life — a  good  stomach  is  everythink. 
No  bad  nio-hts,  no  headachs — eh  ?  Quite  cool  and  col- 
lected  for  your  law  studies  in  the  morning? — eh?" 
And  the  old  nobleman  here  grinned,  in  a  manner  which 
would  have  done  creddit  to  Mr.  Grimoldi. 

Master  sate  pale  and  wincing,  as  I've  seen  a  pore 
soldier  under  the  cat.  He  didn't  anser  a  word.  His 
exlent  pa  went  on,  warming  as  he  continued  to  speak, 
and  drinking  a  fi-esh  glas  at  evry  full  stop. 

"How  you  must  improve,  with  such  talents  and 
such  principles  !  Why,  Algernon,  all  London  talks  of 
your  industry  and  perseverance  :  You're  not  merely  a 
philosopher,  man ;  hang  it !  you've  got  the  philoso- 
pher's stone.  Fine  rooms,  fine  horses,  champagne,  and 
all  for  200  a-year !" 

"  I  presume,  sir,"  says  my  master,  "  that  you  mean 
the  two  hundred  a-year  which  you  pay  me  ?" 

"  The  veiy  sum,  my  boy ;  the  very  sum !"  cries  my 
lord,  laffin  as  if  he  would  die.  "  Why,  that's  the  won- 
der! I  never  pay  the  two  hundred  a-year,  and  you 
keep  all  this  state  up  upon  nothing.     Give  me  your  se- 


102  THE    YELLOVv  PLUSH    PAPERS. 


cret,  O  you  young  Trismegistus  !  Tell  your  old  father 
how  such  wondei-s  can  be  worked,  and  I  will — yes,  then, 
upon  my  word,  I  will — pay  you  your  two  hundred  a- 
year !" 

"  Enfin,  my  lord,"  says  Mr.  Deuceace,  starting  up, 
and  losing  all  patience,  "  will  you  have  the  goodness  to 
tell  me  what  this  visit  means  ?  You  leave  me  to  starve, 
for  all  you  care ;  and  you  grow  mighty  facetious  be- 
cause I  earn  my  bread.     You  find  me  in  prosperity, 

and " 

"  Precisely,  my  boy ;  precisely.  Keep  your  temper, 
and  pass  that  bottle.  I  find  you  in  prosperity ;  and  a 
young  gentleman  of  your  genius  and  acquirements  asks 
me  Avhy  I  seek  your  society  ?  Oh,  Algernon  !  Alger- 
non !  this  is  not  worthy  of  such  a  profound  philosopher. 
Why  do  I  seek  you  ?  Why,  because  you  are  in  pros- 
perity, O  my  son !  else,  why  the  devil  should  I  bother 
myself  about  you  ?  Did  I,  your  poor  mother,  or  your 
family,  ever  get  from  you  a  single  affectionate  feelmg  ? 
Did  we,  or  any  other  of  your  friends  or  intimates,  ever 
know  you  to  be  guilty  of  a  single  honest  or  generous 
action  ?  Did  we  ever  pretend  any  love  for  you,  or  you 
for  us  ?  Algernon  Deuceace,  you  don't  want  a  father 
to  tell  you  that  you  are  a  swindler  and  a  spendthrift ! 
I  have  paid  thousands  for  the  debts  of  yourself  and  your 
brothers ;  and,  if  you  pay  nobody  else,  I  am  determined 
you  shall  repay  me.  You  would  not  do  it  by  fair 
means,  when  I  wrote  to  you  and  asked  you  for  a  loan 
of  money.  I  knew  you  would  not.  Had  I  written 
ao-ain  to  warn  you  of  my  coming,  you  would  have  given 
me  the  slip ;  and  so  I  came,  unimdted,  to  force  you  to 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  103 


repay  me.     That''s  -svliy  I  am  here,  Mr.  Algernon ;  and 
so,  help  yom-self  and  pass  the  bottle." 

After  this  speach,  the  old  genlmn  sunk  down  on  the 
sofa,  and  puffed  as  much  smoke  out  of  his  mouth  as  if 
he'd  been  the  chimley  of  a  steam-injian.  I  was  pleased, 
I  confess,  with  the  sean,  and  liked  to  see  this  venrabble 
and  virtuous  old  man  a  nocking  his  son  about  the  hed ; 
just  as  Deuceace  had  done  with  Mr.  Richard  Blewitt, 
as  I've  before  shewn.  Master's  face  was,  fust,  red-hot; 
next,  chawk-white ;  and  then,  sky-blew.  He  looked, 
for  all  the  world,  like  Mr.  Tippy  Cooke  in  the  tragady 
of  Frankinstang.     At  last,  he  mannidged  to  speek. 

"My  lord,"  says  he,  "I  expected  when  I  saw  you 
that  some  such  scheme  was  on  foot.  Swindler  and 
spendthrift  as  I  am,  at  least  it  is  but  a  family  failing ; 
and  I  am  indebted  for  my  virtues  to  my  father's  pre- 
cious example.  Your  lordship  has,  I  perceive,  added 
drunkenness  to  the  list  of  your  accomplishments ;  and, 
I  suppose,  under  the  influence  of  that  gentlemanly  ex- 
citement, has  come  to  make  these  preposterous  proposi- 
tions to  me.  When  you  are  sober,  you  will,  perhaps, 
be  wise  enough  to  know,  that,  fool  as  I  may  be,  I  am 
not  such  a  fool  as  you  think  me  ;  and  that  if  I  have 
got  money,  I  intend  to  keep  it — every  farthing  of  it, 
though  you  were  to  be  ten  times  as  drunk,  and  ten 
times  as  threatening,  as  you  are  now."     ■ 

"  Well,  well,  my  boy,"  said  Lord  Crabs,  who  seemed 
to  have  been  half-asleep  during  his  son's  oratium,  and 
received  all  his  snears  and  surcasms  with  the  most 
complete  good-humour  ;  "  well,  well,  if  you  will  resist — 
tant  pis  pour  iol — I've  no  deshe  to  ruin  you,  recollect, 
and  am  not  in  the  slightest  degree  angry ;  but  I  must 


104  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPEES. 

and  will  liave  a  tliousand  pounds.  You  had  better  give 
me  the  money  at  once ;  it  will  cost  you  more  if  you 
don't." 

"  Sir,"  says  Mr.  Deuceace,  "  I  will  be  equally  can- 
did. I  would  not  give  you  a  farthing  to  save  you 
from " 

Here  I  thought  proper  to  open  the  doar,  and, 
touching  my  hat,  said,  "  I  have  been  to  the  Cafe  de 
Paris,  my  lord,  but  the  house  is  shut." 

"  Bon  :  there's  a  good  lad  ;  you  may  keep  the  five 
francs.  And  now,  get  me  a  candle  and  shew  me  down 
stairs." 

But  my  master  seized  the  wax  taper.  "Pardon 
me,  my  lord,"  says  he.  "  What !  a  servant  do  it,  when 
your  son  is  in  the  room  ?  Ah,  jpar  exemple^  my  dear 
father,"  said  he,  laughing,  "you  think  there  is  no 
pohteness  left  among  us."     And  he  led  the  way  out. 

"  Good  night,  my  dear  boy,"  said  Lord  Crabs. 

"  God  bless  you,  sir,"  says  he.  "  Ai'e  you  wrapped 
warm  ?     Mind  the  step  I" 

And  so  this  afieckshnate  pair  parted. 


CHAPTER  in. 

MTNEWTBING. 

Master  rose  the  nex  morning  with  a  dismal  coun- 
tinants — he  seamed  to  think  that  his  pa's  visit  boded 
him  no  good.  I  heard  him  muttering  at  his  brexfast, 
and  fumbling  among  his  hundred  pound  notes ;  once 
he  had  laid  a  parsle  of  them  aside  (I  knew  what  he 
meant),  to  send  'em  to  his  father.     "  But,  no,"  says  he 


MR.    DEUCE  ACE.  105 


at  last,  clutching  them  all  up  together  again,  and  throw- 
ing them  into  his  escritaw :  "  what  harm  can  he  do  me  ? 
If  he  is  a  knave,  I  know  another  who's  full  as  sharp. 
Let's  see  if  we  cannot  beat  him  at  his  own  weapons." 
With  that,  Mr.  Deuceace  drest  himself  in  his  best 
clothes,  and  marched  off  to  the  Plas  Vandom,  to  pay 
his  cort  to  the  fair  ^iddo  and  the  intresting  orfn. 

It  was  abowt  ten  o'clock,  and  he  propoased  to  the 
ladies,  on  seeing  them,  a  number  of  planus  for  the  day's 
rackryation.  Riding  in  the  Body  Balong,  going  to  the 
Twillaries  to  see  King  Looy  Disweet  (who  was  then  the 
raining  sufferin  of  the  French  crownd)  go  to  Chappie, 
and,  finely,  a  dinner  at  5  o'clock  at  the  Caffy  de  Parry ; 
whents  they  were  all  to  ajourn,  to  see  a  new  peace  at 
the  theatre  of  the  Pot  St.  Martin,  called  Susannar  and 
the  Elders. 

The  gals  agread  to  every  think,  exsep  the  two  last 
prepositiums.  "We  have  an  engagement,  my  dear 
Mr.  Algernon,"  said  my  lady.  "  Look — a  very  kind 
letter  from  Lady  Bobtail."  And  she  handed  over  a 
pafewmd  noat  from  that  exolted  lady.     It  ran  thus  : — 

''Fbg.  Si.  Honore,  Thursday,  Feb.  15,  181Y. 
"  My  dear  Lady  GrijQSn, — It  is  an  age  since  we  met 
Harassing  pubhc  duties  occupy  so  much  myself  and 
Lord   Bobtail,   that  we   have   scarce   time  to  see  our 
private  friends  ;  among  whom,  I  hope,  my  dear  Lady 
Griffin  will  allow  me  to  rank  her.     Will  you  excuse  so 
very  unceremonious  an  invitation,  and  dine  with  us  at 
the  Embassy  to-day  ?  We  shall  be  en  petit  comite,  and 
shall  have  the  pleasure  of  hearing,  I  hope,  some  of  your 
charming  daughter's  singing  in  the  evening.     I  ought, 
5* 
s 


106  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

perhaps,  to  liave  addressed  a  separate  note  to  dear  Miss 
GrifiBn  ;  but  I  liope  she  will  pardon  a  poor  diplomate^ 
who  has  so  many  letters  to  write,  you  know, 

"  Farewell  till  seven,  when  I  positively  must  see  you 
both.     Ever,  dearest  Lady  Griffin,  j  oui'  affectionate 

"  Eliza  Bobtail." 

Such  a  letter  from  the  ambassdriss,  brot  by  the 
ambasdor's  Sh  assure,  and  sealed  with  his  seal  of  arms, 
would  affect  anybody  in  the  middling  ranx  of  life.  It 
droav  Lady  Griffin  mad  with  delight ;  and,  long  before 
my  master's  arrivle,  she'd  sent  Mortimer  and  Fitz- 
clarence,  her  two  footmin,  along  with  a  polite  reply  in 
the  affummatiff. 

Master  read  the  noat  with  no  such  fealinx  of  joy. 
He  felt  that  there  was  somethink  a-going  on  behind  the 
seans,  and,  though  he  could  not  tell  how,  was  sure  that 
gome  danger  was  near  him.  That  old  fox  of  a  father  of 
his  had  begun  his  M'Inations  pretty  early  1 

Deuceace  handed  back  the  letter;  sneared,  and 
Doohd,  and  hinted  that  such  an  invatation  was  an  in 
8ult  at  best  (what  he  called  a  pees  ally) ;  and,  the  ladies 
might  depend  upon  it,  was  only  sent  because  Lady 
Bobtail  wanted  to  fill  up  tw^o  spare  places  at  her  table. 
But  Lady  Griffin  and  miss  would  not  have  his  insin- 
wations ;  they  knew  too  fu  lords  ever  to  refuse  an  in- 
vitatium  ftom  any  one  of  them.  Go  they  would ;  and 
poor  Deuceace  must  dine  alone.  After  they  had  been 
on  their  ride,  and  had  had  their  other  amusemince, 
master  came  back  with  them,  chatted,  and  laffc ;  he  was 
mighty  sarkastix  with  my  lady ;  tender  and  sentrymentle 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  107 


with  miss  ;  and  left  them  both  in  high  sperrits  to  per- 
form their  twollet,  before  dinner. 

As  I  came  to  the  door  (for  I  was  as  famillyer  as  a 
servnt  of  the  house),  as  I  came  into  the  drawing-room 
to  annoimts  his  cab,  I  saw  master  very  quietly  taking 
his  pocket-book  (or  pot-fool,  as  the  French  call  it)  and 
thrusting  it  under  one  of  the  cushinx  of  the  sofa.  What 
game  is  this  ?  thinx  I. 

Why,  this  was  the  game.  In  abowt  two  hours, 
when  he  knew  the  ladies  were  gon,  he  pretends  to  be 
vastly  anxious  abowt  the  loss  of  his  potfoUo ;  and  back 
he  goes  to  Lady  Griffinses,  to  seek  for  it  there. 

"  Pray,"  says  he,  on  going  in,  "  ask  !Mis3  Kicksey  if  I 
may  see  her  for  a  single  moment"  And  down  comes 
Miss  Kicksey,  quite  smiling,  and  happy  to  see  him. 

"  Law,  Mr.  Deuceace  !"  says  she,  trying  to  blush 
as  hard  as  ever  she  could,  "  you  quite  surprise  me !  I 
don't  know  whether  I  ought,  really,  being  alone,  to  ad- 
mit a  gentleman." 

"  Nay,  don't  say  so,  dear  Miss  Kicksey  !  for  do  you 
know,  I  came  here  for  a  double  purpose — to  ask  about 
a  pocket-book  which  I  have  lost,  and  may,  perhaps, 
have  left  here  ;  and  then,  to  ask  you  if  you  will  have 
the  great  goodness  to  pity  a  sohtary  bachelor,  and  give 
him  a  cup  of  your  nice  tea  ? " 

Nice  tea  !  I  thot  I  should  have  split ;  for,  I'm  blest 
if  master  had  eaten  a  morsle  of  dinner ! 

Never  mind :  down  to  tea  they  sate.  "  Do  you 
take  cream  and  sugar,  dear  sir  ?"  says  poar  Ejcksey, 
with  a  voice  as  tender  as  a  tuttle-duff. 

"  Both,  dearest  Miss  Kicksey  !"  answei-s  master  ;  and 


108  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

stowed  in  a  power  of  sasliong  and  muffinx  which  would 
have  done  honour  to  a  washawoman. 

I  sha'nt  describe  the  conversation  that  took  place 
betwigst  master  and  this  young  lady,  The  reader, 
praps,  knows  y  Deuceace  took  the  trouble  to  talk  to  her 
for  an  hour,  and  to  swallow  all  her  tea.  He  wanted  to 
find  out  from  her  all  she  knew  about  the  famly  money 
matters,  and  settle  at  once  which  of  the  two  Griffiinses 
he  should  marry. 

The  poor  thing,  of  cors,  was  no  match  for  such  a 
man  as  my  master.  In  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  he  had, 
if  I  may  use  the  igspression,  "  turned  her  inside  out," 
He  knew  every  thing  that  she  knew,  and  that,  poar  crea- 
ture, was  very  little.  There  was  nine  thousand  a-year, 
she  had  heard  say,  in  money,  in  houses,  in  banks  in 
Injar,  and  what  not.  Boath  the  ladies  signed  papers 
for  selUng  or  buying,  and  the  money  seemed  equilly 
divided  betwigst  them. 

Nine-thousand  a-year  !  Deuceace  went  away,  his 
cheex  tingling,  his  art  beating.  He,  without  a  penny, 
could  nex  morning,  if  he  liked,  be  master  of  five  thou- 
sand per  hannum ! 

Yes.     But  how  ?  Which  had  the  money,  the  mother 

or  the  daughter  ?     All  the  tea-drinking  had  not  taught 

him  this  piece  of  nollidge  ;  and  Deuceace  thought  it  a 

pity  that  he  could  not  marry  both. 

***** 

The  ladies  came  back  at  night,  mightaly  pleased 
with  their  reception  at  the  ambasdor's  ;  and,  stepping 
out  of  their  carridge,  bid  coachmin  drive  on  with  a  gen 
tleman,   who    had    handed   them    out — a   stout    old 
gentleman,  who  shook  hands  most  tenderly  at  parting, 


MR.    DEUCE  ACE.  109 


and  promised  to  call  often  upon  my  Lady  Griffin.  He 
was  so  polite,  that  lie  wanted  to  mount  the  stairs  with 
her  ladyship ;  but  no,  she  would  not  suffer  it.  "  Ed- 
ward," says  she  to  the  coachmin,  quite  loud,  and  pleased 
that  all  the  people  in  the  hotel  should  hear  her,  "  you 
will  take  the  can-iage,  and  drive  Ms  lordship  home. 
Now,  can  you  guess  who  his  lordship  was  ?  The  Right 
Hon.  the  Earl  of  Crabg,  to  be  sure  ;  the  very  old  gnlmn 
whom  I  had  seen  on  such  charming  terms  with  his  son 
the  day  before.  Master  knew  this  the  nex  day,  and  be- 
gan to  think  he  had  been  a  fool  to  deny  his  pa  the 
thousand  pound. 

Now,  though  the  suckmstansies  of  the  dinner  at  the 
ambasdor's  only  came  to  my  yeai-s  some  time  after,  I 
may  as  well  relate  'em  here,  word  for  word,  as  they  was 
told  me  by  the  very  genlmn  who  waited  behind  Lord 
Crabseses  chair. 

There  was  only  a  '■'■  petty  comity'''  at  dinner,  as  Lady 
Bobtail  said  ;  and  my  Lord  Crabs  was  placed  betwigst 
the  two  Griffinses,  being  mighty  ellygant  and  palite  to 
both.  "  Allow  me,"  says  he  to  Lady  G.  (between  the 
soop  and  the  fish),  "  my  dear  madam,  to  thank  you — 
fervently  thank  you,  for  your  goodness  to  my  poor  boy. 
Your  ladyship  is  too  young  to  experience,  but,  I  am 
sure,  far  too  tender  not  to  undei*stand  the  gratitude 
which  must  fill  a  fond  parent's  heart  for  kindness  shewn 
to  his  child.  Believe  me,"  says  my  lord,  looking  her 
full  and  tenderly  in  the  face,  "that  the  favours  you 
have  done  to  another  have  been  done  equally  to  myself, 
and  awaken  in  my  bosom  the  same  grateful  and  affec- 
tionate feelings  with  which  you  have  already  inspired 
my  son  Algernon." 


110  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 


Lady  Griffin  bluslit,  and  droopt  her  head  till  her 
ringlets  fell  into  her  fish-plate  ;  and  she  swallowed  Lord 
Crabs's  flumry  just  as  she  would  so  many  musharuins. 
My  lord  (whose  powers  of  slack-jaw  was  notoarious)  nex 
addrast  another  spitch  to  Miss  Griffin.  He  said  he'd 
heard  how  Deuceace  was  situated.  Miss  blu3ht — 'what 
a  happy  dog  he  was — Miss  blusht  crimson,  and  then 
he  sighed  deeply,  and  began  eatiftg  his  turbat  and  lob- 
ster SOS.  Master  was  a  good  un  at  flumry ;  but,  law 
bless  you !  he  was  no  moar  equill  to  the  old  man  than 
a  molehill  is  to  a  mounting.  Before  the  night  was 
over,  he  had  made  as  much  progress  as  another  man 
would  in  a  ear.  One  almost  forgot  his  red  nose  and 
his  big  stomick,  and  his  wicked  leering  i's,  in  his  gentle 
insiniwating  woice,  his  fund  of  annygoats,  and,  above 
all,  the  bewtifle,  ncuorl,  religious,  and  honrabble  toan  of 
his  genral  conversation.  Praps  you  will  say  that  tTiese 
ladies  were,  for  such  rich  pipple,  mightily  esaly  capti- 
vated ;  but  recklect,  my  dear  su-,  that  they  were  fresh 
from  Injar, — that  they'd  not  sean  many  lords, — that 
they  adoared  the  peeridge,  as  every  honest  woman  does 
in  England  who  has  proper  feelinx,  and  has  read  the 
fashnabble  novvles, — and  that  here  at  Paris  was  their 
fust  «tep  into  fashnabble  sosiaty. 

Well,  after  dinner,  while  Miss  Matilda  was  singing 
"  JDie  tantie^^''  or  "  Dip  your  chair^^''  or  some  of  them 
sellabrated  Italyian  hairs  (when  she  began  this  squall, 
hang  me  if  she'd  ever  stop),  my  lord  gets  hold  of  Lady 
Griffin  again,  and  gradgaly  begins  to  talk  to  her  in  a 
very  difierent  strane. 

"  "What  a  blessing  it  is  for  us  all,"  says  he,  ''  that 


MR.    DEUCE  ACE,  111 


Alo-ernon  has  found   a  friend  so   respectable   as  your 

ladyship." 

"  Indeed,  my  lord ;  and  why  ?      I  suppose  I  am 

not   the  only    respectable   friend   that   Mr.    Deuceace 

has  ?" 

"  No,  siu-ely ;  not  the  only  one  he  has  had :  his 

birth,  and,  pennit  me  to  say,  his  relationship  to  myself, 

have   procm-ed   him » many.     But — "    (here   my   lord 

heaved  a  very  affecting  and  large  sigh.) 

"  But  what  ?"  says  my  lady,  laffing  at  the  igspres- 

sion  of  his  dismal  face.     "  You  don't  mean  that  Mr. 

Deuceace  has  lost  them  or  is  unworthy  of  them  ?" 

"  I  trust  not,  my  dear  madam,  I  trust  not ;  but  he 

is  wild,  thoughtless,  exti-avagant,  and  emban-assed ;  and 

you  know  a  man  under  these  circumstances  is  not  very 

particular  as  to  his  associates." 

"  Embarrassed  ?     Good  heavens  I     He  says  he  has 

two  thousand  a-year  left  him  by  a  godmother  ;  and  he 
does  not  seem  even  to  spend  his  income — a  very  hand- 
some independence,  too,  for  a  bachelor. 

My  lord  nodded  his  head  sadly,  and  said, — "  Will 
vour  ladyship  give  me  your  word  of  honour  to  be  se- 
cret ?  My  son  has  but  a  thousand  a-year,  which  I  allow 
him,  and  is  heavily  in  debt.  He  has  played.  Madam, 
I  fear ;  and  for  this  reason  I  am  so  glad  to  hear  that  he 
is  in  a  respectable  domestic  circle,  where  he  may  learn, 
in  the  presence  of  far  greater  and  purer  attractions,  to 
forget  the  dice-box,  and  the  low  company  which  has 
been  his  bane." 

My  lady  Griffin  looked  very  grave  indeed.  "Was  it 
true  ?  Was  Deuceace  sincere  in  his  professions  of  love, 
or  was  he  only  a  sharper  wooing  her  for  her  money  ? 


112  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

Could  she  doubt  her  informer?  his  own  father,  and, 
wha't'  s  more,  a  real  flesh  and  blood  pear  of  parlyment  ? 
She  determined  she  would  try  him.  Pi-aps  she  did  not 
know  she  had  liked  Deuceace  so  much,  until  she  kem 
to  feel  how  much  she  should  hate  him,  if  she  found  he'd 
been  playing  her  false. 

The  evening  was  over,  and  back  they  came,  as  we've 
seen, — my  lord  driving  home  in  my  lady's  carridge, 
her  ladyship  and  Miss  walking  up  stairs  to  their  own 
apartmince. 

Here,  for  a  wonder,  was  poar  Miss  Kicksy  quite  happy 
and  smiling,  and  evidently  full  of  a  secret, — something 
mighty  pleasant  to  judge  from  her  loox.  She  did  not 
long  keep  it.  As  she  was  making  tea  for  the  ladies 
(for  in  that  house  they  took  a  cup  regular  before  bed- 
time), "  Well,  my  lady,"  says  she,  "  who  do  you  think 
has  been  to  drink  tea  with  me  ?"  Poar  thing,  a  frend- 
ly  face  was  an  event  in  her  life — a  tea-party  quite;  a 
hera ! 

"  Why,  perhaps,  Lenoir,  my  maid,"  says  my  lady, 
looking  grave.  "  I  wish,  Miss  Kicksy,  you  would  not 
demean  yourself  by  mixing  with  my  domestics.  Recol- 
lect, madam,  that  you  are  sister  to  Lady  GriflSn." 

"  No,  my  lady,  it  was  not  Lenoir ;  it  was  a  gentle- 
man, and  a  handsome  gentleman,  too." 

"  Oh,  it  was  Monsieur  de  I'Orge,  then,"  says  miss ; 
"  he  promised  to  brmg  me  some  guitar-strings." 

"  ISTo,  nor  yet  M.  de  I'Orge.  He  came,  but  was  not 
so  polite  as  to  ask  for  me.  What  do  you  think  of  your 
own  beau,  the  honorable  Mr.  Algernon  Deuceace  ;"  and, 
so  saying,  poar  Kicksey  clapped  her  hands  together,  and 
looked  as  joyfle  as  if  she'd  come  into  a  fortin. 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  113 


"  Mr.  Deiiceace  liere ;  and  why,  pray  ?"  says  my 
lady,  who  recklected  all  that  his  exlent  pa  had  been 
sa}dng  to  her. 

"  Why,  in  the  first  place,  he  had  left  his  pocket- 
book,  and  in  the  second,  he  wanted,  he  said,  a  dish  of 
my  nice  tea,  which  he  took,  and  stayed  with  me  an 
hour,  or  moar." 

"  And  pray  Miss  Kicksey,"  said  Miss  Matilda,  quite 
contempshsuly,  "  what  may  have  been  the  subject  of 
your  conversation  with  Mr.  Algernon  ?  Did  you  talk 
pohtics,  or  music,  or  fine  arts,  or  metaphysics  ?"  Miss 
M.  being'  what  was  called  a  blue  (as  most  hump-backed 
women  in  sosiaty  are),  always  made  a  pint  to  Epeak  on 
these  grand  subjects. 

"  No,  indeed ;  he  talked  of  no  such  awfiil  matters. 
If  he  had,  you  know,  Matilda,  I  should  never  have  un- 
derstood him.  First  we  talked  about  the  weather,  next 
about  muflins  and  crumpets.  Crumpets,  he  said,  he 
hked  best ;  and  then  we  talked  (here  Miss  Kicksy's 
voice  fell  about  poor  dear  Sir  George  in  heaven  !  what 
a  good  husband  he  was,  and " 

"  What  a  good  fortune  he  left, — eh.  Miss  Kicksy  ?" 
says  my  lady,  with  a  hard,  snearing  voice,  and  a  dia- 
bollicle  grin. 

"Yes,  dear  Leonora,  he  spoke  so  respectfully  of 
your  blessed  husband,  and  seemed  so  anxious  about 
you  and  Matilda,  it  was  quite  charming  to  hear  him, 
dear  man !" 

"  And  pray,  Miss  Kicksy,  what  did  you  tell  him  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  told  him  that  you  and  Leonora  had  nine 
thousand  a-year,  and " 

"What  then?" 


114  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

"  Why  nothing  ;  that  is  all  I  know.  I  am  sure,  I 
wish  I  had  ninety  "  says  poor  Kjcksy,  her  eyes  turning 
to  heaven. 

"  Ninety  fiddlesticks  !  Did  not  Mr.  Deuceace  ask 
how  the  money  was  left,  and  to  which  of  us  ?" 

"  Yes ;  but  I  could  not  tell  him." 

"  I  knew  it !"  says  my  lady,  slapping  down  her  tea 
cup, — "  I  knew  it !" 

"  Well !"  says  Miss  Matilda,  "  and  why  not  Lady 
Griffin  ?  There  is  no  reason  you  should  break  youi 
teacup,  because  Algernon  asks  a  harmless  question. 
He  is  not  mercenary ;  he  is  all  candour,  innocence, 
generosity  !  He  is  himself  blest  with  a  sufficient  portion 
of  the  world's  goods  to  be  content ;  and  often  and 
often  har  he  told  me,  he  hoped  the  woman  of  his  choice 
might  come  to  him  without  a  penny,  that  he  might 
shew  the  purity  of  his  affection." 

"  I've  no  doubt,"  says  my  lady.  "  Perhaps  the  lady 
of  his  choice  is  Miss  Matilda  Griffin  !"  and  she  flung  out 
of  the  room,  slamming  the  door,  and  leaving  Miss  Ma- 
tilda to  bust  into  tears,  as  was  her  reglar  custom,  and 
pour  her  loves  and  woas  into  the  buzzom  of  Miss  Kicksy. 

CHAPTER  IV. 

"  HITTING  THE  NALE  ON  THE  HEDD." 

The  nex  morning,  down  came  me  and  master  to  Lady 
Griffinses, — I  amusing  myself  with  the  gals  in  the  an- 
tyroom,  he  paying  his  devours  to  the  ladies  in  the 
salong.  Miss  was  thrumming  on  her  gitter  ;  my  lady 
was  before  a  gi-eat  box  of  papers,  busy  with  accounts, 


MR.    DEUCE  ACE.  115 


bankers'  books,  lawyers'  letters,  and  wbat  not.  Law 
bless  us  !  it's  a  kind  of  bisniss  I  should  like  well  enufF, 
especially  when  my  hannual  account  was  seven  or  eight 
thousand  on  the  right  side,  like  my  lady's.  My  lady 
in  this  house  kep  all  these  matters  to  herself.  Miss 
was  a  vast  deal  too  sentrimentle  to  mind  business. 

Miss  Matilda's  eyes  sparkled  as  master  came  in ; 
she  pinted  gracefully  to  a  place  on  the  sofy  beside  her, 
w^hich  Deuceace  took.  My  lady  only  looked  up  for  a 
moment,  smiled  very  kindly,  and  down^went  her  head 
among  the  papers  agen,  as  busy  as  a  B. 

"  Lady  Griffin  has  had  letters  from  London,"  says 
miss,  from  nasty  lawyers  and  people.  Come  here  and 
sit  by  me,  you  naughty  man,  you  !" 

And  down  sat  master.  "  Willingly,"  says  he,  "  my 
dear  Miss  Griffin  ;  why,  I  declare  it  is  quite  a  tete-d- 

mer 

"  Well,"  says  miss  (after  the  prillimnary  flumries, 
in  coarse),  "  we  met  a  friend  of  yours  at  the  embassy, 
Mr.  Deuceace." 

"  My  father,  doubtless ;  he  is  a  great  friend  of  the 
ambassador,  and  surprised  me  myself  by  a  \Tisit  the 
night  before  last." 

"  What  a  dear  dehghtfal  old  man !  how  he  loves 
you,  Mr.  Deuceace !" 

"  Oh,  amazingly !"  says  master,  throwing  his  i's  to 
heaven. 

"  He  spoke  of  nothing  but  you,  and  such  praises  of 
you!" 

Master  breathed  more  freely.  "  He  is  very  good, 
my  dear  father ;  but  blind,  as  all  fathers  are,  he  is  so 
partial  and  attached  to  me." 


116  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

"  He  spoke  of  your  being  his  favourite  child,  and 
regTetted  that  you  were  not  his  eldest  son.  '  I  can  but 
leave  him  the  small  portion  of  a  younger  brother,'  he 
said  ;  '  but  never  mind,  he  has  talents,  a  noble  name 
and  an  independence  of  his  own.' 

"  An  independence  ?  yes,  oh  yes  !  I  am  c[uite  inde 
pendent  of  my  father." 

"Two  thousand  pounds  a-year  left  you  by  your 
godmother ;  the  very  same  you  told  us  you  know." 

"  Neither  mpre  nor  less,"  says  master,  bobbing  his 
head  ;  "  a  suflBciency,  my  dear  Miss  Griffin, — to  a  man 
of  my  moderate  habits  an  ample  provision." 

"  By  the  by,"  cries  out  Lady  Griffin,  interruping  the 
conversation,  "  you  who  are  talking  about  money  mat- 
ters there,  I  wish  you  would  come  to  the  aid  of  poor 
me  !  Come,  naughty  boy,  and  help  me  out  with  this 
long,  long  sum." 

DidnH  he  go — that's  all !  My  i,  how  his  i's  shone, 
as  he  skipt  across  the  room,  and  seated  himself  by  mv 
lady ! 

"  Look  !"  said  she,  "  my  agents  write  me  over  that 
they  have  received  a  remittance  of  7200  rupees,  at  2s, 
9d.  a  rupee.  Do  tell  me  what  the  sum  is,  in  pound? 
and  shillings  ;"  which  master  did  with  great  gravity. 

"  Nine  hundi-ed  and  ninety  pounds.  Good ;  I  dare 
say  you  are  right.  I'm  sure  I  can't  go  through  the  fa- 
tigue to  see.  And  now  comes  another  question.  Whose 
money  is  this,  mine  or  Matilda's  ?  You  see  it  is  the  in- 
terest of  a  sum  in  Lidia,  which  we  have  not  had  occa- 
sion to  touch  ;  and,  according  to  the  terms  of  poor  Sir 
George's  will,  I  really  don't  knovv'  how  to  dispose  of  the 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  11 Y 


money,  except  to  spend  it.     Matilda,  what  sliall  we  do 
with  it  ?" 

"  La,  ma'am,  I  wish  you  would  arrange  the  busi- 
ness yourself." 

"  Well,  then,  Algernon,  you  tell  me ;"  and  she  laid 
her  hand  on  his,  and  looked  him  "  most  pathetickly  in 
the  face. 

"  Why,"  says  he,  "  I  don't  know  how  Su*  George 
left  his  money ;  you  must  let  me  see  his  will,  fii-st." 

"  Oh,  wilhngly." 

Master's  chau*  seemed  suddenly  to  have  got  springs 
in  the  cushns  ;  he  was  obliged  to  hold  himself  down. 

"  Look  here,  I  have  only  a  copy,  taken  by  my  hand 
from  Sir  George's  own  manuscript.  Soldiers,  you  know, 
do  not  employ  lawyers  much,  and  this  was  written  on 
the  night  before  going  into  action."  And  she  read, 
"  '  I,  George  Griffin,'  &c.  &c. — you  know  how  these 
things  begin — '  being  now  of  sane  mind' — um,  um,  um 
— '  leave  to  my  friends,  Thomas  Abraham  Hicks,  a  co- 
lonel in  the  H.  E.  I.  Company's  Service,  and  to  John 
Monro  Mackirkincroft  (of  the  house  of  Huffle,  Mackir- 
kincroft,  and  Dobbs,  at  Calcutta),  the  whole  of  my  pro- 
perty, to  be  realised  as  speedily  as  they  may  (consistent- 
ly with  the  interests  of  the  property),  in  trust  for  my 
wife,  Leonora  Emilia  Griffin  (bom  L.  E.  Ejcksy),  and 
my  only  leg-itimate  child,  Matilda  GriflSn.  The  interest 
resulting  from  such  property  to  be  paid  to  them,  share 
and  share  alike  ;  the  principal  to  remain  untouched,  in 
the  names  of  the  said  T.  A.  Hicks  and  J.  M.  Mackirkin- 
croft, until  the  death  of  my  wife,  Leonora  Emilia  Griffin, 
when  it  shall  be  paid  to  my  daughter,  Matilda  Griffin, 
her  heirs,  executoi-s,  or  assigns.'  " 


118  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

"  There,"  said  my  lady,  "  we  won't  read  any  more  ; 
all  the  rest  is  stuflf.  But,  now  you  know  the  whole 
business,  tell  us  what  is  to  be  done  with  the  money  ?" 

"  Why,  the  money,  unquestionably,  should  be  di- 
vided between  you." 

"  Tant  mieux,  say  I,  I  really  thought  it  had  been  all 

Matilda's." 

%  %  %  ^  ^  ^ 

There  was  a  paws  for  a  minit  or  two  after  the  will 
had  been  read.  Master  left  the  desk  at  which  he  had 
been  seated  with  her  ladyship,  paced  up  and  down  the 
room  for  a  while,  and  then  came  round  to  the  place 
where  Miss  Matilda  was  seated.  At  last  he  said,  in  a 
low,  trembling  voice, 

"  I  am  almost  sorry,  my  dear  Lady  Griffin,  that  you 
have  read  that  will  to  me ;  for  an  attachment  such  as 
must  seem,  I  fear,  mercenary,  when  the  object  of  it  is  so 
greatly  favoured  by  worldly  fortune.  Miss  Griffin — Ma- 
tilda !  I  know  I  may  say  the  word ;  your  dear  eyes 
grant  me  the  permission.  I  need  not  tell  you,  or  you, 
dear  mother-in-law,  how  long,  how  fondly,  I  have  adored 
you.  My  tender,  my  beautiful  Matilda,  I  will  not  affect 
to  say  I  have  not  read  your  heart  ere  this,  and  that  I 
have  not  known  the  preference  with  which  you  have 
honoured  me.  Speak  it,  dear  girl !  from  your  own 
sweet  lips,  in  the  presence  of  an  affectionate  parent,  utter 
the  sentence  which  is  to  seal  my  happiness  for  life.  Ma- 
tilda, dearest  Matilda !  say,  oh  say,  that  you  love  me  !" 

Miss  M.  shivered,  turned  pail,  rowled  her  eyes  about, 
and  fell  on  master's  neck,  whispering  hodibly,  "  /  do  .^" 

"  My  lady  looked  at  the  pair  for  a  moment  with  her 
teeth  grinding,  her  i's  glaring,  her  busm  throbbing,  and 


MR,    DEUCHaCE,  119 


her  face  chock  white,  for  all  the  world  like  Madam 
Pasty,  in  the  oppra  of  Mydear  (when  she's  goin  to  mud- 
der  her  childring,  you  recklect),  and  out  she  flounced 
from  the  room,  without  a  word,  knocking  down  poar 
me,  who  happened  to  be  very  near  the  dor,  and  lea\ing 
my  master  along  with  his  crook-back  mistress. 

I've  repotted  the  speech  he  made  to  her  pretty  well. 
The  fact  is,  I  got  it  in  a  ruff  copy,  which,  if  any  boddy 
likes,  they  may  see  at  Mr.  Frazierses,  only  on  the  copy 
it's  wrote,  '■'■Lady  Griffin,  Leonora  P"*  instead  of  Miss 
Griffin  Matilda^''  as  in  the  abuff,  and  so  on. 

Master  had  hit  the  rio-ht  nail  on  the  head  this  time, 
he  thought ;  but  his  adventors  an't  over  yet. 


CHAPTER   V. 

THE    griffin's    claws. 

Well,  master  had  hit  the  right  nail  on  the  head 
this  time  :  thanx  to  luck — the  crooked  one,  to  be  sure, 
but  then  it  had  the  goold  nobb,  which  was  the  part  Deu- 
ceace  most  valued,  as  well  he  should ;  being  a  conny- 
shure  as  to  the  relletif  valyou  of  pretious  metals,  and 
much  prefemng  virging  goold  like  this  to  poor  old  bat- 
tered iron  hke  my  Lady  GrifiBn. 

And  so,  in  spite  of  his  father  (at  which  old  noble- 
min  Mr.  Deuceace  now  snapt  his  fingers),  in  spite  of  his 
detts  (which,  to  do  him  Justas,  had  never  stood  much 
in  his  way),  and  in  spite  of  his  povatty,  idleness,  extra- 
vagans,  swindling,  and  debotcheries  of  all  kinds  (which 
an't  generally  very  favorabble  to  a  young  man  who  has 
to  make  his  way  in  the  world)  ;  in  spite  of  all,  there  he 


120  THE  TELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

was,  I  say,  at  tlie  topp  of  the  trea,  the  fewcher  master 
of  a  perfect  fortun,  the  defianced  husband  of  a  fool  of  a 
wife.  What  can  mortial  man  want  more  ?  Vishns  of 
ambishn  now  occupied  his  soal.  Shooting  boxes,  oppra 
boxes,  money  boxes  always  full ;  hunters  at  Melton  ;  a 
seat  in  the  House  of  Commins,  Heaven  knows  what ! 
and  not  a  poar  footman,  who  only  describes  what  he's 
seen,  and  can't  in  cors,  pennytrate  into  the  idears  and 
the  busms  of  men. 

You  may  be  shore  that  the  three-cornerd  noats  came 
pretty  thick  now  from  the  Griffinses.  Miss  was  always 
a  writing  them  befoar ;  and  now,  nite,  noon,  and  morn- 
ink,  breakfast,  dinner,  and  sopper,  in  they  came,  till  my 
pantry  (for  master  never  read  'em,  and  I  earned  'em  out) 
was  puffickly  intolrabble  from  the  oder  of  musk,  amby- 
grease,  bargymot,  and  other  sense  with  which  they  were 
impregniated.  Here's  the  contense  of  three  on  'em, 
which  I've  kep  in  my  dex  these  twenty  years  as  skew- 
riosities.  Faw !  I  can  smel  'em  at  this  very  minit,  as  I 
am  copying  them  down. 

Billy  Dog.     No.  I. 

Monday  morning,  2  o'clock, 
"  'Tis  the  witching  hour  of  night.  Luna  illumines 
my  chamber,  and  falls  upon  my  sleepless  pillow.  By  her 
light  I  am  inditing  these  words  to  thee,  my  Algernon. 
My  brave  and  beautiful,  my  soul's  lord  !  when  shall  the 
time  come  when  the  tedious  night  shall  not  separate  us, 
nor  the  blessed  day  ?  Twelve  !  one  !  two  ! '  I  have 
heard  the  bells  chime,  &nd  the  quarters,  and  never  cease 
to  think  of  my  husband.    My  adored  Percy,  pardon  the 


MR.    DEUCE  ACE.  121 


girlish  confession, — I  have  kissed  the  letter  at  this  place. 
Will  thy  lips  press  it  too,  and  remain  for  a  moment  on 
the  spot  which  has  been  equally  saluted  by  your 

Matilda  ?" 

This  was  the  fust  letter,  and  was  brot  to  our  house 
by  one  of  the  poar  footmin,  Fitzclarence,  at  sicks  o'clock 
in  the  morning.  I  thot  it  was  for  life  and  death,  and 
woak  master  at  that  extraornary  hour,  and  gave  it  to 
him.  I  shall  never  forgit  him,  when  he  red  it;  he 
cramped  it  up,  and  he  cust  and  swoar,  applying -to  the 
lady  who  roat,  the  genlmn  that  brought  it,  and  me  who 
introjuiced  it  to  his  notice,  such  a  collection  of  epitafs  as 
I  seldum  hered,  excep  at  BiUinxgit.  The  fact  is  thiss, 
for  a  fust  letter,  miss's  noat  was  rather  too  strong,  and 
sentymentle.  But  that  was  her  way ;  she  was  always 
reading  melancholy  stoary  books — Thaduse  of  Wawsaw, 
the  Sorrows  of  Mac  "WTihter,  and  such  hke. 

After  about  6  of  them,  master  never  yoused  to  read 
them ;  but  handid  them  over  to  me,  to  see  if  there  was 
any  think  in  them  which  must  be  answered,  in  order  to 
Mp  up  appearuntses.     The  next  letter  is 

"Xo.  n. 

"  Beloved !  to  what  strange  madnesses  will  passion 
lead  one !  Lady  Griffin,  since  your  avowal  yesterday, 
has  not  spoken  a  word  to  your  poor  Matilda ;  has  de- 
clared that  she  will  admit  no  one  (heigho  !  not  even 
you,  my  Algernon)  ;  and  has  locked  herself  in  her  own 
dressing-room.  I  do  believe  that  she  is  jealous,  and  fan- 
cies that  you  were  in  love  with  lier  !     Ha,  ha !    I  could 


122  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

have  told  her  another  tale — n'est-ce  pas  ?   Adieu,  adieu, 
adieu !     A  thousand,  thousand,  milhon  kisses ! 

"M.  G. 

"  Monday  afternoon,  2  o^cloch.^* 

There  was  another  letter  kem  oefore  bedtime ;  for 
though  me  and  master  called  at  the  GriflBnses,  we 
wairnt  aloud  to  enter  at  no  j)rice.  Mortimer  and  Fitz- 
clarence  gTind  at  me,  as  much  as  to  say  we  were  going 
to  be  relations ;  but  I  dont  spose  master  Avas  very  sorry 
when  he  was  obleached  to  come  back  Avithout  seeing 
the  fare  objict  of  his  affeckshns. 

Well,  on  Chev/sdy  there  was  the  same  game ;  ditto 
on  Wensday ;  only,  when  we  called  there,  who  should 
we  see  but  our  father.  Lord  Crabs,  who  was  waiving 
his  hand  to  Miss  Kicksey,  and  saying  he  should  he  hack 
to  dinner  at  V,  just  as  me  and  master  came  up  the 
stares.  There  was  no  admittns  for  us  though.  "  Bah  ! 
bah!  never  mind,"  says  my  lord,  taking  his  son 
affeckshnately  by  the  hand.  "  What,  two  strings  to  your 
bow ;  ay,  Algernon  ?  The  dowager  a  little  jealous,  miss 
a  little  lovesick.  But  my  lady's  fit  of  anger  will  vanish, 
and  I  promise  you,  my  boy,  that  you  shall  see  your  fair 
one  to-morrow." 

And,  so  saying,  my  lord  walked  master  down  stares, 
looking  at  him  as  tender  and  affeckshnat,  and  speaking 
to  him  as  sweet  as  posbill.  Master  did  not  know  what 
to  think  of  it.  He  never  new  what  game  his  old  father 
was  at ;  only  he  somehow  felt  that  he  had  got  his  head 
in  a  net,  in  spite  of  his  suxess  on  Sunday.  I  knew  it — 
I  knew  it  quite  well,* as  soon  as  I  saw  the  old  genlmn 
igsammin  him,  by  a  kind  of  smile  which  came  over  his 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  123 


old  face,  and  was  somethink  'betwigst  the  angellic  and 
the  du-ebolhcle. 

But  master's  dowts  were  cleared  np  nex  day,  and 
every  thing  was  bright  again.  At  brexfast,  in  comes 
a  note  with  inclosier,  boath  of  -witch  I  here  copy : 

"No.  IX. 

"  Thursday  3forning. 

"  Victoria,  Victoria !  Mamma  has  yielded  at  last ; 
not  her  consent  to  our  miion,  but  her  consent  to  receive 
you  as  before;  and  has  promised  to  forget  the  past. 
Silly  woman,  how  could  she  ever  think  of  you  as  any- 
thing but  the  lover  of  yom-  Matilda  ?  I  am  in  a  whirl  of 
delicious  joy  and  passionate  excitement.  I  have  been 
awake  all  this  long  night,  thinking  of  thee,  my  Alger- 
non, and  longing  for  the  blissful  hour  of  meeting. 

"Come!^  M.  G." 

This  is  the  inclosier  fi*om  my  lady : 

"  I  will  not  tell  you  that  yom*  beha\dour  on  Sunday 
did  not  deeply  shock  me.  I  had  been  fooHsh  enough 
to  think  of  other  plans,  and  to  fancy  your  heart  (if  you 
had  any)  was  fixed  elsewhere  than  on  one  at  whose 
foibles  you  have  often  laughed  with  me,  and  whose 
person  at  least  cannot  have  charmed  you. 

"My  step-daughter  will  not,  I  presimie,  many  with- 
out at  least  going  through  the  ceremony  of  asking  my 
consent ;  I  cannot,  as  yet,  give  it.  Have  I  not  reason 
to  doubt  whether  she  ^^11  be  happy  in  trusting  herself 
to  you? 

"  But  she  is  of  age,  and  has  the  right  to  receive  in 


124  THE    YELLOWrLUSH    I^APKRS. 

her  own  house  all  those  who  may  be  agreeable  to  her, 
— certainly  you,  who  are  likely  to  be  one  day  so  nearly 
connected  with  her.  If  I  have  honest  reason  to  believe 
that  your  love  for  Miss  Griffin  is  sincere ;  if  I  find  in  a 
few  months  that  you  yourself  are  still  desirous  to  marry 
her,  I  can,  of  course,  place  no  further  obstacles  in 
your  way. 

"  You  are  welcome,  then,  to  return  to  our  hotel. 
I  cannot  promise  to  receive  you  as  I  did  of  old ;  you 
would  despise  me  if  I  did.  I  can  promise,  however,  to 
think  no  more  of  all  that  has  passed  between  us,  and 
yield  up  my  own  happiness  for  that  of  the  daughter  of 
my  dear  husband. 

"L.  E.  G." 

Well,  now,  an't  this  a  manly,  straitforard  letter 
enough,  and  natral  from  a  woman  whom  we  had,  to 
confess  the  truth,  treated  most  scuwily  ?  Master  thought 
so,  and  went  and  made  a  tender,  respeckful  speach  to 
Lady  Griffin  (a  little  flumry  costs  nothink).  Grave  and 
sorrofle  he  kist  her  hand,  and,  speakin  in  a  very  low 
adgitayted  voice,  calld  He^n  to  witness  how  he  deploi-d 
that  his  conduct  should  ever  have  given  rise  to  such  an 
unfortnt  ideer ;  but  if  he  might  offer  her  esteem,  respect, 
the  warmest  and  tenderest  admiration,  he  trusted  she 
would  accept  the  same,  and  a  deal  moar  flumry  of  the 
kind,  with  dark,  solium,  glansis  of  the  eyes,  and  plenty 
of  white  pocMt  hankercher. 

He  thought  he'd  made  all  safe.  Poar  fool !  he  was 
in  a  net — sich  a  net  as  I  never  yet  see  set  to  ketch  a 
roag  in. 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  125 


CHAPTER  VI. 


THE    JEWEL. 


The  Shevalier  de  I'Orge,  the  young  Frenchmin  whom  I 
wrote  of  in  my  last,  who  had  been  rather  shy  of  his 
visits  while  master  was  coming  it  so  very  strong,  now 
came  bach  to  his  old  place  by  the  side  of  Lady  Griffin ; 
there  was  no  love  now,  though,  betwigst  him  and 
master,  although  the  shevallier  had  got  his  lady  back 
agin,  Deuceace  being  compleatly  devoted  to  his  crookid 
Veanus. 

The  shevalier  was  a  little,  pale,  moddist,  insinifishnt 
creature;  and  I  shoodn't  have  thought,  from  his  ap- 
pearants,  would  have  the  heart  to  do  harm  to  a  fli, 
much  less  to  stand  befor  such  a  tremendious  tiger  and 
fire-eater  as  my  master.  But  I  see  putty  well,  after  a 
week,  from  his  manner  of  going  on — of  speakin  at 
master,  and  lookin  at  him,  and  olding  his  lips  tight 
when  Deuceace  came  into  the  room,  and  glaring  at  him 
with  his  i's,  that  he  hated  the  Honrabble  Algernon 
Percy. 

Shall  I  tell  you  why?  Because  my  Lady  Griffin 
hated  him ;  hated  him  wuss  than  pison,  or  the  devvle, 
or  even  wuss  than  her  daughter-in  law.  Praps  you 
phansy  that  the  letter  you  have  juss  red  was  honest ; 
praps  you  amadgin  that  the  scan  of  the  reading  of  the 
wil  came  on  by  mere  chans,  and  in  the  reglar  cors  of 
suckmstansies :  it  was  all  a  game,  I  tell  you — a  reglar 
trap ;  and  that  extrodnar  clever  young  man,  my  master, 
as  neatly  put  his  foot  into  it,  as  ever  a  pocher  did  in 
fesnt  preserve. 


126  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

The  slievalier  had  his  q  from  Lady  Griffin.  When 
Deuceace  went  off  the  feald,  back  came  De  I'Orge  to 
her  feet,  not  a  witt  less  tender  than  befor.  Por  fellow, 
por  fellow  !  he  really  loved  this  woman.  He  might  as 
well  have  foln  in  love  with  a  boreconstructor !  He  was 
so  bhnded  and  beat  by  the  power  wich  she  had  got  over 
him,  that  if  *she  told  him  black  was  white  he'd  beleave 
it,  or  if  she  ordered  him  to  commit  murder,  he'd  do  it 
— she  wanted  something  very  like  it,  I  can  tell  you. 

I've  aheady  said  how,  in  the  fiist  part  of  their 
acquaintance,  master  used  to  laff  at  De  I'Orge's  bad 
Inglish,  and  funny  ways.  The  httle  creature  had  a 
thowsnd  of  these ;  and  being  small,  and  a  Frenchman, 
master,  in  cors,  looked  on  him  with  that  good-humoured 
kind  of  contemp  which  a  good  Brittn  ot  always  to 
show.  He  rayther  treated  him  like  an  intelligent 
munky  than  a  man,  and  ordered  him  about  as  if  he'd 
bean  my  lady's  footman. 

All  this  munseer  took  in  very  good  part,  until  after 
the  quarl  betwigst  Master  and  Lady  Griffin ;  when  that 
lady  took  care  to  turn  the  tables.  Whenever  master 
and  miss  were  not  present  (as  I've  heard  the  servants 
say),  she  used  to  laflp  at  the  shevalliay  for  his  obeajance 
and  sivillatty  to  master.  "  For  her  part,  she  wondered 
how  a  man  of  his  birth  could  act  a  servnt ;  how  any 
man  could  submit  to  such  contemsheous  behaviour  from 
another;  and  then  she  told  him  how  Deuceace  was 
always  snearing  at  him  behind  his  back;  how,  in  fact, 
he  ought  to  hate  him  corjaly,  and  how  it  was  suttnly 
time  to  shew  his  sperrit." 

Well,  the  poar  little  man  beleaved  all  this  from  his 
hart,  and  was   angry  or  pleased,  gentle  or  quarlsum, 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  127 


igsactly  as  my  lady  liked.  There  got  to  be  fre quint 
rows  betwigst  liim  and  master;  sharp  words  flung  at 
each  other  across  the  dinner-table ;  dispewts  about  hand- 
ing ladies  their  smeling-botls,  or  seeing  them  to  their 
carridge ;  or  going  in  and  out  of  a  roam  fust,  or  any 
such  nonsince. 

"  For  Hevn's  sake,"  I  heerd  my  lady,  in  the 
midl  of  one  of  these  tifls,  say,  pail,  and  the  teai-s  tremb- 
ling in  her  i's,  "  do,  do  be  calm,  Mr.  Deuceace.  Mon- 
sieur de  I'Orge,  I  beseech  you  to  forgive  him.  You  are, 
both  of  you,  so  esteemed,  lov'd,  by  members  of  this 
family,  that  for  its  peace  as  well  as  your  own,  you  should 
forbear  to  quan-el." 

It  was  on  the  way  to  the  Sally  Mangy  that  this 
brangling  had  begun,  and  it  ended  jest  as  they  were 
seating  themselves.  I  shall  never  forgit  poar  httle  De 
I'Orge's  eyes,  when  my  lady  said  "  both  of  you."  He 
stair'd  at  my  lady  for  a  momint,  turned  pail,  red,  look'd 
wild,  and  then,  going  round  to  master,  shook  his  hand 
as  if  he  would  have  wrimg  it  off.  !Mr.  Deuceace  only 
bowd  and  grind,  and  tm-ned  away  quite  stately ;  miss 
heaved  a  loud  O  from  her  busm,  and  lookd  up  in  his 
face  with  an  igspreshn,  jest  as  if  she  could  have  eat  him 
up  with  love ;  and  the  little  shevalliay  sate  down  to  his 
soop-plate,  and  wus  so  happy,  that  I'm  blest  if  he 
wasn't  crying !  He  thought  the  widdow  had  made  her 
declp-ation,  and  would  have  him;  and  so  thought 
Deuceace,  who  lookd  at  her  for  some  time  mighty  bitter 
and  contempshus,  and  then  fell  a  talking  with  miss. 

Now,  though  master  didn't  choose  to  many  for 
Lady  Griffin,  as  he  might  have  done,  he  yet  thought 
fit  to  be  very  angiy  at  the  notion  of  her  marrying  any 


128  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

body  else ;  and  so,  consquintly,  was  in  a  fewiy  at  this 
confision  which  she  had  made  regarding  her  parshaleaty 
for  the  French  shevaleer. 

And  this  I've  perseaved  in  the  cors  of  my  expearants 
through  life,  that  when  you  vex  him,  a  roag's  no  longer 
a  roag ;  you  find  him  out  at  onst  when  he's  in  a  passion, 
for  he  shows,  as  it  ware,  his  cloven  foot  the  very  instnt 
you  tread  on  it.  At  least,  this  is  what  young  roags  do ; 
it  requires  very  cool  blood  and  long  practis  to  get  over 
this  pint,  and  not  to  show  your  pashn  when  you  feel  it, 
and  snarl  when  you  are  angry.  Old  Crabs  wouldn't 
do  it;  being  hke  another  noblemin,  of  whom  I  heard 
the  Duke  of  Wellington  say,  while  waiting  behind  his. 
graci's  chair,  that  if  you  were  kicking  him  from  behind, 
no  one  standing  before  him  wuld  know  it,  from  the 
bewtifle  smiling  igspreshn  of  his  face.  Young  Master 
hadn't  got  so  far  in  the  thief's  grammer,  and,  when  he 
was  angry,  showd  it.  And  it's  also  to  be  remarked  (a 
very  profownd  observatin  for  a  footmin,  but  we  have  i's 
though  we  do  wear  plush  britchis),  it's  to  be  remarked, 
I  say,  that  one  of  these  chaps  is  much  sooner  maid 
angry  than  another,  because  honest  men  yield  to  other 
people,  roags  never  do ;  honest  men  love  other  people, 
roags  only  themselves;  and  the  slightest  thing  which 
comes  in  the  way  of  thir  beloved  objects  sets  them 
fe\\Tious.  Master  hadn't  led  a  life  of  gambhng,  swindling, 
and  every  kind  of  debotch  to  be  good  tempered  at  the 
end  of  it,  I  prommis  you. 

He  was  in  a  pashun,  and  when  he  was  in  a  pashn, 
a  more  insalent,  insuflfrable,  overbearing  broot,  didn't 
live. 

This  was  the  very  pint  to  which  my  lady  wished  to 


MR.    DEUCE  ACE.  129 


bring  him;  for  I  must  tell  you,  that  though  she  had 
been  trying  all  her  might  to  set  master  and  the  shevalliay 
by  the  years,  she  had  suxcaded  only  so  far  as  to  make 
them  hate  each  profowndly;  but  somehow  or  other, 
the  2  cox  woudnt  fight. 

I  doan't  think  Deuceace  erer  suspected  any  game 
on  the  part  of  her  ladyship,  for  she  carried  it  on  so 
admirally,  that  the  cparls  which  daily  took  place 
betwio-st  him  and  the  Frenchman  never  seemed  to  come 
from  her ;  on  the  contry,  she  acted  as  the  reglar  pease- 
maker  between  them,  as  I've  just  shown  in  the  tiU 
which  took  place  at  the  door  of  the  Sally  Mangy. 
Besides,  the  2  young  men,  thoagh  reddy  enough  to 
snarl,  were  natrally  unwilling  to  cum  to  bloes.  I'll  tell 
you  why:  being  friends,  and  idle,  they  spent  their 
mornins  as  young  fashnabbles  gem-aUy  do,  at  bilHads, 
fensing,  riding,  pistle-shooting,  or  some  such  improo^ing 
study.  In  biUiads,  master  beat  the  Frenchmn  hollow 
(and  had  won  a  pretious  sight  of  money  from  him,  but 
that's  neither  here  nor  there,  or,  as  the  French  say, 
ontry  noo) ;  at  pistle  shooting,  master  could  knock  down 
eio-ht  immido-es  out  of  ten,  and  De  TOrge  seven ;  and 
in  fensincr,  the  Frenchman  could  pink  the  Honorabble 
Alo-ernon  down  evry  one  of  his  weskit  buttns.  They'd 
each  of  them  been  out  more  than  oust,  for  every  French- 
man ^-ill  fight,  and  master  had  been  obleag'd  to  do  so 
in  the  cors  of  his  bisniss;  and  knowing  each  other's 
curridg,  as  well  as  the  fact  that  either  could  put  a 
hundrid  bolls  running  into  a  hat  at  30  yards,  they 
wairn't  very  wilhng  to  try  such  exparrymence  upon 
their  own  hats  with  their  own  heads  in  them.  So  you 
see  they  kep  quiet,  and  only  grould  at  each  other. 


130  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

But  to-day,  Deuceace  was  in  one  of  iiis  thundering 
black  burners ;  and  wben  in  this  way  be  woodnt  stop 
for  man  or  devvle.  I  said  tbat  be  walked  away  from 
tbe  sbevalliay,  wbo  bad  given  bim  bis  band  in  bis  sud- 
den bust  of  of  joyfle  good-bumour,  and  wbo,  I  do  bleave, 
would  bave  bugd  a  sbe-bear,  so  very  bappy  was  be. 
Master  walked  away  from  bim  pale  and  botty,  and, 
taking  bis  seat  at  table,  no  moor  mindid  tbe  brandisb- 
ments  of  Miss  Griffin,  but  only  replied  to  tbem  witb  a 
psbaw,  or  a  dam  at  one  of  us  servnts,  or  abuse  of  tbe 
soop,  or  tbe  wine ;  cussing  and  swearing  like  a  trooper, 
and  not  like  a  wel-bred  son  of  a  noble  Brittisb  peer. 

"Will  your  ladysbip,"  says  be,  slivering  off  tbe 
wing  of  a  pully  ally  hasJiT/mall,  "  allow  me  to  belp 
you  ?" 

"  I  tbank  you !  no ;  but  I  will  trouble  Monsieur  de 
I'Orge."  And  towards  tbat  gnlmn  sbe  turned,  witb  a 
most  tender  and  fasnating  smile. 

"  Your  ladysbip  bas  taken  a  very  sudden  admiration 
for  Mr.  de  I'Orge's  carving.  You  used  to  like  mine 
once." 

"  You  are  very  skilful ;  but  to-day,  if  you  mil  allow 
me,  I  will  partake  of  something  a  little  simpler." 

Tbe  Frenchman  helped ;  and,  being  so  happy,  in 
cors,  spilt  the  gi*avy.  A  great  blob  of  brown  sos  spurted 
on  to  master's  chick,  and  myandrewd  down  bis  shert 
collar  and  virging-white  weskit. 

"  Confound  you !"  says  be,  "  M.  de  I'Orge,  you  bave 
done  this  on  purpose."  And  down  went  his  knife  and 
fork,  over  went  his  tumbler  of  wine,  a  deal  of  it  into 
poar  Miss  Griffinses  lap,  who  looked  fritened  and  ready 
to  cry. 


MR.    DEUCE  ACE.  131 


My  lady  bust  into  a  fit  of  laffin,  peel  upon  peel,  as 
if  it  was  the  best  joak  in  the  world.  De  I'Orge  giggled 
and  grind  too.  '■'•  Pardong^''  says  he;  '•'•  meal jiardong-, 
mong  share  munseery'^  And  he  looked  as  if  he  would 
have  done  it  again  for  a  j^enny. 

The  Httle  Frenchman  was  quite  m  exstasis ;  he  found 
himself  all  of  a  suddn  at  the  very  top  of  the  trea ;  and 
the  lafi"  for  oust  turned  against  his  rivle,  he  actialy  had 
the  ordassaty  to  propose  to  my  lady  iu  English  to  take 
a  glass  of  wine. 

"Veal  you,"  says  he,  in  his  jargin,  "take  a  glas 
of  Madere  viz  me,  mi  ladi  V  And  he  looked  round,  as 
if  he'd  igsackly  hit  the  English  manner  and  pronmicia- 
tion. 

"  With  the  greatest  pleasure,"  says  Lady  G.,  most 
graciously  nodding  at  him,  and  gazing  at  him  as  she 
drank  uj)  the  vrine.  She'd  refused  master  befor,  and 
this  didn't  increase  his  good  humer. 

Well,  they  went  on,  master  snarling,  snapping,  and 
swearing,  making  himself,  I  must  confess,  as  much  of  a 
blaggard  as  any  I  ever  see ;  and  my  lady  employing 
her  time  betwigst  him  and  the  shevalliay,  doing  eveiy 
think  to  irritate  master,  and  flatter  the  Frenchmn.  De- 
sert came  ;  and  by  this  time,  miss  was  stock-still  "with 
fright,  the  chevaleer  half  tipsy  with  pleasure  and  gi-ata- 
fied  vannaty.  My  lady  puffickly  raygent  ^dth  smiles, 
and  master  bloo  with  rage. 

"  Mr.  Deuceace,"  says  my  lady,  in  a  most  winning 
voice,  after  a  httle  chaflSng  (in  which  she  only  worked 

*  In  the  long  dialogues',  we  have  generally  ventui-ed  to 
change  the  peenhar  spelling  of  our  friend,  Mr.  Yellowplush. 


132  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

him  up  moar  and  moar),  "  may  I  trouble  you  for  a  few 
of  those  grapes  ?  they  look  delicious." 

For  answer,  master  seas'd  hold  of  the  grayp  dish, 
and  sent  it  sliding  down  the  table  to  De  I'Orge ;  uspset- 
ting,  in  his  way,  fruit-plates,  glasses,  dickanters,  and 
Heaven  knows  what. 

"  Monsieur  de  I'Orge,"  says  he,  shouting  out  at  the 
top  of  his  voice,  "  have  the  goodness  to  help  Lady  Grif- 
fin. She  wanted  iny  grapes  long  ago,  and  has  found 
out  they  are  sour !" 

Ht  -k  %  %  Ht 

There  was  a  dead  paws  of  a  moment  or  so. 

%  %  H:  %  % 

"  Ah  P''  says  my  lady,  "  vous  osez  rnHnsulter,  devant 
mes  gens,  dans  ma,  propre  maison — c'est  par  trap  fort, 
monsieur.^''  And  up  she  got,  and  flung  out  of  the  room. 
Miss  followed  her,  screeching  out,  "  Mamma — for  God's 
sake — Lady  GriflSn  !"  and  here  the  door  slammed  on 
the  pair. 

Her  ladyship  did  very  well  to  speak  French.  Be 
V  Orge  would  not  Imve  understood  lier  else  ;  as  it  was  he 
heard  quite  enough ;  and  as  the  door  clikt  too,  in  the 
presents  of  me,  and  Messeers  Mortimer  and  Fitzclar- 
ence,  the  family  footmen,  he  walks  round  to  my  master, 
and  hits  him  a  slap  on  the  face,  and  says,  "  P rends  ga, 
menteur  et  IdcheP^  Which  means,  "Take  that,  you 
liar  and  coward !" — rayther  strong  igspreshns  for  one 
genlmn  to  use  to  another. 

Master  staggered  back,  and  looked  bewildered ;  and 
then  he  gave  a  kind  of  a  scream,  and  then  he  made  a 
run  at  the  Frenchman,  and  then  me   and   Mortimer 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  133 

fluno'  oui-selves  upon  him,  whilst  Fitzclarence  embraced 
the  shevaUiay. 

"  A  demain  /"  says  he,  cHnching  his  little  fist,  and 
walking  away,  not  very  soiTy  to  git  off. 

When  he  was  fairly  down  stares,  we  let  go  of  mas- 
ter ;  who  swallowed  a  gobht  of  water,  and  then  pawsing 
a  little,  and  pulling  out  his  pus,  he  presented  to  Messeers 
Mortimer  and  Fitzclarence  a  luydor  each.  "  I  will  give 
you  five  more  to-morrow,"  says  he,  "  if  you  will  prom- 
ise to  keep  this  secrit." 

And  then  he  walked  into  the  ladies.  "If  ycj 
knew,"  says  he,  going  up  to  Lady  Griffin,  and  speak- 
ino-  very  slow  (in  cors  we  were  all  at  the  keyhole),  "  the 
pain  I  have  endured  in  the  last  minute,  in  consequence 
of  the  rudeness  and  insolence  of  which  I  have  been 
guilty  to  your  ladyship,  you  would  think  my  own  re- 
morse was  punishment  sufficient,  and  would  gTant  me 
pardon." 

My  lady  bowed,  and  said  she  didn't  wish  for  ex- 
planations. Mr.  Deuceace  was  her  daughter's  guest, 
and  not  hers ;  but  she  certainly  would  never  demean 
herself  by  sitting  again  at  table  with  him.  And  so  say- 
ing, out  she  boltid  again. 

"  Oh  !  Algernon  !  Algernon  1"  says  miss,  in  teers, 
"  what  is  this  dreadful  mystery — these  fearful,  shocking 
quarrels  ?  Tell  me,  has  anything  happened  ?  ^Yhere, 
where  is  the  chevaher  ?" 

Master  smiled,  and  said,  "  Be  imder  no  alarm,  my 
sweetest  Matilda.  De  I'Orge  did  not  imderstand  a  word 
of  the  dispute ;  he  was  too  much  in  love  for  that.  He 
is  but  gone  away  for  half  an  horn-,  I  beUeve  ;  and  will 
return  to  coffee." 


134  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

I  knew  what  master's  game  was,  for  if  miss  had  got 
a  hinMing  of  the  quarrel  betwigst  him  and  the  French- 
man, we  should  have  had  her  screeming  at  the  Hotel 
Mirabeu,  and  the  juice  and  all  to  pay.  He  only  stopt 
for  a  few  minuits,  and  cumfitted  her,  and  then  di-ove  off 
to  his  fi'iend,  Captain  BuUseye,  of  the  Rifles ;  with  whom 
I  spose,  he  talked  over  this  unplesnt  bisniss.  We  fownd, 
at  our  hotel,  a  note  from  De  I'Orge,  saying  where  his 
secknd  was  to  be  seen. 

Two  mornings  after  there  was  a  paiTowgi-af  in  Gal- 
lynannifs  Messinger,  which  I  hear  beg  leaf  to  trans- 
cribe : — 

^'Fearful  Duel. — ^Yesterday  morning,  at  six  o'clock,  a  meet- 
ing took  place,  in  the  Bois  de  Boulogne,  between  the  Hon,  A. 
P.  D — ce — ce,  a  younger  son  of  the  Earl  of  Cr — ^bs,  and  the 

Chevalier  de  I'O .    The  chevaher  was  attended  by  Major 

<Je  M ,  of  the  Royal  Guard,  and  the  Hon.  Mr.  D by 

Captain  B — ^lls — ^ye,  of  the  British  Rifle  Corps.  As  far  as  we 
have  been  able  to  learn  the  particulars  of  this  deplorable  affair, 
the  dispute  originated  in  the  house  of  a  lovely  lady  (one  of  the 
most  brilliant  ornaments  of  our  embassy),  and  the  duel  took 
place  on  the  morning  ensuing. 

"  The  chevalier  (the  challenged  party,  and  the  most  accom- 
phshed  amateur  swordsman  in  Paris)  waived  his  right  of  choos- 
ing the  weapons,  and  the  combat  took  place  with  pistols. 

"  The  combatants  were  placed  at  forty  paces,  with  directions 
to  advance  to  a  barrier  which  separated  them  only  eight  paces. 

Each  was  furnished  with  two  pistols,     Monsieur  de  I'O 

fired  almost  immediately,  and  the  ball  took  effect  in  the  left 
wrist  of  his  antagonist,  who  dropped  the  pistol  which  he  held 
in  that  hand.  He  fired,  however,  directly  with  his  right,  and 
the  chevaher  fell  to  the  ground,  we  fear  mortally  wounded. 
A  ball  has  entered  above  his  hip-joint,  and  there  is  very  little 
hope  that  he  can  recover. 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  135 


"We  have  heard  that  the  cause  of  this  desperate  duel  was 
a  blow,  which  the  chevalier  ventured  to  give  to  the  Hon.  Mr. 
D.  If  so,  there  is  some  reason  for  the  unusual  and  determined 
manner  in  which  the  duel  was  fought. 

"Mr.  Deu — a — e  returned  to  his  hotel;  whither  his  excel- 
lent father,  the  Right  Hon.  Earl  of  Cr — bs,  immediately  has- 
tened on  hearino;  of  the  sad  news,  and  is  nc  tv  bestowinar  on 
his  son  the  most  affectionate  parental  attention.  The  news 
only  reached  his  lordship  yesterday  at  noon,  while  at  break- 
fast with  hia  excellency,  Lord  Bobtail,  our  ambassador.  The 
noble  earl  fainted  on  receiving  the  intelligence ;  but,  in  spite 
of  the  shock  to  his  own  nerves  and  health,  persisted  in  passing 
last  night  by  the  couch  of  his  son." 

And  so  he  did.  "  This  is  a  sad  business,  Charles," 
says  my  lord  to  me,  after  seeing  his  son,  and  settUng 
himself  down  in  our  salong.  "  Have  you  any  segai*s 
in  the  house  ?  And,  hark  ye,  send  me  up  a  Lottie  of 
wine  and  some  luncheon.  I  can  certainly  not  leave  the 
neighbourhood  of  my  dear  boy." 


CHAPTER  Vn. 

THE   COXSQUINSrES. 

The  shevalliay  did  not  die,  for  the  ball  came  out  of  it's 
own  accord,  in  the  midst  of  a  violent  fever  and  inflam- 
avshn  which  was  brot  on  by  the  wound.  He  was  kept 
in  bed  for  6  weeks  though,  and  did  not  recover  for  a 
loner  time  after. 

As  for  master,  his  lot,  I'm  sorry  to  say,  was  wuss 
than  that  of  his  ad\dsary.  Inflammation  came  on  too  ; 
and,  to  make  an  ugly  stoiy  short,  they  were  obliged  to 
take  off  his  hand  at  the  rist. 


\ 

136  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

He  bore  it,  in  cors,  like  a  Trojin,  and  in  a  month  lie 
too  was  well,  and  his  wound  heel'd ;  but  I  never  see  a 
man  look  so  like  a  devvle  as  he  used  sometimes,  when 
he  looked  down  at  the  stump  ! 

To  be  sure,  in  Miss  Griffinses  eyes,  this  only  indeer- 
ed  him  the  mor.  She  sent  twenty  noats  a-day  to 
ask  for  him,  calling  him  her  beloved,  her  unfortnat,  her 
hero,  her  wictim,  and  I  dono  what.  I've  kep  some  of 
the  noats  as  I  tell  you,  and  curiously  sentimentle  they 
are,  beating  the  sorrows  of  Mac  Whirter  all  to  nothink. 

Old  Crabs  used  to  come  offen,  and  consumed  a 
power  of  wine  and  seagars  at  our  house.  I  bleave  he 
was  at  Paris  because  there  was  an  exycution  in  his  own 
house  in  England  ;  and  his  son  was  a  sure  find  (as  they 
say)  during  his  illness,  and  couldn't  deny  himself  to  the 
old  genlmn.  His  eveninx  my  lord  spent  reglar  at 
Lady  Griffin's,  where,  as  master  was  ill,  I  didn't  go  any 
more  now,  and  where  the  shevalier  wasn't  there  to  dis- 
turb him. 

"  You  see  how  that  woman  hates  you,  Deuceace," 
says  my  lord,  one  day,  in  a  fit  of  cander,  after  they  had 
been  talking  about  Lady  Griffin  :  "  she  has  not  done  with 
you  yet^  I  tell  you  fairly." 

"  Curse  her,"  says  master,  in  a  fury,  lifting  up  his 
maim'd  arm — "  curse  her,  but  I  will  be  even  with  her 
one  day.  I  am  sure  of  Matilda :  I  took  care  to  put 
that  beyond  the  reach  of  a  failure.  The  girl  must 
marry  me  for  her  own  sake." 

"  For  her  own  sake  !  O  ho  !  Good,  good !"  My 
lord  lifted  his  i's,  and  said,  gravely,  "  I  understand,  my 
dear  boy  :  it  is  an  excellent  plan." 

"  Well,"  says  master,  grinning   fearcely  and  know- 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  137 


inglv  at  Ms  exlent  old  father,  "  as  the  gui  is  safe,  what 
harm  can  I  fear  from  the  fiend  of  a  stepmother  '•" 

My  lord  only  gev  a  long  whizzle,  and,  soon  after, 
takmg  up  his  hat^  walked  off.  I  saw  him  sawnter  down 
the  Plas  Vandome,  and  go  in  quite  calmly  to  the  old  door 
of  Lady  Griffinses  hotel.  Bless  his  old  face  !  such  a  puf- 
fickly  good-natured,  Mnd  hearted,  merry,  selfish  old 
scoundril,  I  never  shall  see  again. 

His  lordship  was  quite  right  in  saying  to  master 
that  "  Lady  Griffin  hadn't  done  with  him."  Xo  moar 
she  had.  But  she  never  would  have  thoua^ht  of  the 
nex  game  she  was  going  to  play,  if  somebody  hadnHput 
Tier  up  to  it.  Who  did  ?  If  you  red  the  above  pas- 
sidge,  and  saw  how  a  venrabble  old  genlmn  took  his 
hat,  and  sauntered  down  the  Plas  Yandome  (looking 
hard  and  kind  at  all  the  nussary-maids — buns  they  call 
them  in  France — in  the  way),  I  leave  you  to  guess  who 
was  the  author  of  the  nex  skeam  :  a  woman,  suttnly, 
never  would  have  pitcht  on  it, 

Li  the  fuss  payper  which  I  wrote  concerning  Mr. 
Deuceace's  adventers,  and  his  Mnd  behayviour  to  Mes- 
seei's  Dawkins  and  Blewitt,  I  had  the  honor  of  lavinor 
before  the  public  a  skidewl  of  my  mastei^s  detts,  in  witch 
was  the  following  itim : 

"Bills  of  xchange  and  I.O.U's.,  4963?.  Os.  OcZ. 

The  I.O.U.se  v\'ere  trifling,  say  a  thowsnd  pound. 
The  bills  amountid  to  four  thowsnd  moar. 

Now,  the  lor  is  in  France,  that  if  a  genlmn  gi^es 
these  in  Eng-land,  and  a  French  o-enlmn  o:its  them  in 
any  way,  he  can  pm*sew  the  Englishman  who  has  drawn 


138  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

them,  even  though  he  should  be  in  France.  Master  did 
not  know  this  fact — laboring  under  a  very  common  mis- 
teak,  that,  when  oust  out  of  England,  he  might  wissle 
at  all  the  debts  he  left  behind  him. 

My  Lady  Griffin  sent  over  to  her  slissators  in 
London,  who  made  arrangemints  with  the  persons  who 
possest  the  fine  collection  of  ortografs  on  stampt  paper 
which  master  had  left  behind  him  ;  and  they  were  glad 
enuff  to  take  any  oppertunity  of  getting  back  their 
money. 

One  fine  morning,  as  I  was  looking  about  in  the 
court-yard  of  our  hotel,  talking  to  the  servant  gals,  as 
was  my  reglar  custom,  in  order  to  improve  myself  in 
the  French  languidge,  one  of  them  comes  up  to  me  und 
says,  "Tenez,  Monsieur  Charles,  down  below  in  the 
office  there  is  a  bailiff,  with  a  couple  of  gendarmes,  who 
is  asking  for  your  master — a-t-il  cles  dettes  par  hasard  ,^" 

I  was  struck  all  of  a  heap — the  truth  flasht  on  my 
mind's  hi.  "  Toinette,"  says  I,  for  that  was  the  gal's 
name — "  Toinette,"  says  I,  giving  her  a  kiss,  "  keep 
them  for  two  minnits,  as  you  valyou  my  affeckshn  ;"  and 
then  I  gave  her  another  kiss,  and  ran  up  stares  to  our 
chambers.  Master  had  now  pretty  well  recovered  of 
his  wound,  and  was  aloud  to  drive  abowt ;  it  was  lucky 
for  him  that  he  had  the  strength  to  move.  "  Sir,  sir," 
says  I,  "  the  bailiffs  are  after  you,  and  you  must  run  for 
your  life." 

"  Bailiffs,"  says  he  :  "  nonsense  !  I  don't,  thank 
Heaven,  owe  a  shilling  to  any  man." 

"  Stuff,  sir,"  says  I,  forgetting  my  respeck  ;  "  don't 
you  owe  money  in  England  ?  I  tell  you  the  bailiffs 
are  here,  and  will  be  on  you  in  a  moment." 


MR.    DEUCE  ACE.  139 


As  I  spoke,  cling  cling',  ling  ling,  goes  the  bell  of 
tlie  anty-shamber,  and  there  they  were  sure  enough  ! 

What  was  to  be  done  ?  Quick  as  htening,  I  throws 
off  my  hviy  coat,  claps  my  goold  lace  hat  on  master's 
head,  and  makes  him  put  on  my  livry.  Then  I  wraps 
myself  up  in  his  dressing-gown,  and  lolhng  down  on 
the  sofa,  bids  him  open  the  dor., 

There  they  were — the  bailiff — two  jondarms  with 
him — Toinette,  and  an  old  waiter.  When  Toinette  sees 
master,  she  smiles,  and  says  :  "  Dis  done,  Charles !  ou 
est,  done,  ton  maitre  ?  Chez  lui,  n'est-ce  pas  ?  C'est 
le  jeune  homme  a  monsieur,"  says  she,  curtsying  to  the 
bailiff. 

The  old  waiter  was  just  a  going  to  blurt  out,  "  Mais 
ce  n'est  pas  !"  when  Toinette  stops  him,  and  says,  "  Lais- 
sez  done  passer  ces  messieurs,  vieux  bete  ;"  and  in  they 
walk,  the  2  jon  d'arms  taking  their  post  in  the  hall. 

Master  throws  open  the  salong  doar  very  gTavely, 
and,  touching  my  hat,  says,  "  Have  you  any  orders 
about  the  cab,  sir  V 

"  Why,  no,  Chawls,"  says  I ;  "I  shan't  drive  out 
to-day." 

The  old  bailiff  gTinned,  for  he  understood  English 
(having  had  plenty  of  English  customers),  and  says  in 
French,  as  master  goes  out,  "  I  think,  sir,  you  had  better 
let  your  servant  get  a  coach,  for  I  am  imder  the  painful 
necessity  of  arresting  you,  au  nom  cle  la  loi,  for  the  sum 
of  ninety-eight  thousand  seven  hundred  francs,  owed  by 
you  to  the  Sieur  Jacques  Francois  Lebrun,  of  Paris ;" 
and  he  pulls  out  a  number  of  bills,  with  master's  accept- 
ances on  them  sure  enough. 

"  Take  a  chair,  sir,"  says  I ;  and  down  he  sits ;  and 


140  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

I  began  to  cliaff  him,  as  well  as  I  could,  about  the 
weather,  my  illness,  my  sad  axdent,  having  lost  one 
of  my  hands,  which  was  stuck  into  my  busm,  and  so  on. 

At  last,  after  a  minnit  or  two,  I  could  contane  no 
longer,  and  bust  out  in  a  horse  laff. 

The  old  fellow  turned  quite  pail,  and  began  to  sus- 
pect somethink.  "  Hola  !"  says  he ;  "  gendarmes  !  a 
moi !  a  moi !  Je  suis  floue,  vole,"  which  means,  in  Eng- 
lish, that  he  was  reglar  sold. 

The  jondarmes  jumped  into  the  room,  and  so  did 
Toinette  and  the  waiter.  Grasefly  rising  from  my  arm- 
chare,  I  took  my  hand  from  my  dressing-gownd,  and, 
flinging  it  open,  stuck  up  on  the  chair  one  of  the  neatest 
legs  ever  seen. 

I  then  pinted  myjestickly — to  what  do  you  think  ? 
'  — to  my  PLUSH  TiTES  !  those  sellabrated  inigspressables 
which  have  rendered  me  faymous  in  Yourope. 

Taking  the  hint,  the  jondarmes  and  the  servnts  rord 
out  laffing  ;  and  so  did  Charles  Yellowplush,  Esquire,  I 
can  tell  you.  Old  Grippard,  the  baihff,  looked  as  if  he 
would  faint  in  his  chare. 

I  heard  a  kab  galloping  like  mad  out  of  the  hotel- 
gate,  and  knew  then  that  my  master  was  safe. 


CHAPTER   VIII, 

THE  E>T)  OF  MR,  DEUCEACe's  HISTORY.      LESIBO. 

My  tail  is  droring  rabidly  to  a  close :  my  suvvice  with 
Mr.  Deuceace  didn't  continyou  very  long  after .  the  last 
chapter,  in  which  I  described  my  admiral  stratt}'jam, 
and  my  singlar  self-devocean.     There's  very  few  servnts, 


MR.   DEUCEACE.  141 


I  can  tell  you,  who'd  have  tlioiight  of  sucli  a  contri- 
vance, and  very  few  moar  would  have  eggsycuted  it 
when  thought  of. 

But,  after  all,  beyond  the  trifling  advantich  to  my- 
self in  selhng  master's  roab  de  sham,  which  you,  gentle 
reader,  may  remember  I  woar,  and  in  dixcovering  a 
fipun  note  in  one  of  the  pockets, — beyond  this,  I  say, 
there  was  to  poar  master  very  httle  advantitch  in  what 
had  been  done.  It's  true  he  had  escaped.  Very  good. 
But  Frans  is  not  like  Great  Britttn ;  a  man  in  a  livry 
coat,  with  1  arm,  is  pretty  easly  known,  and  caught, 
too,  as  I  can  tell  you. 

Such  was  the  case  Tv^ith  master.  He  coodn  leave 
Paris,  moarover,  if  he  would.  What  was  to  become,  in 
that  case,  of  his  bride — his  unchbacked  hairis  ?  He 
know  that  young  lady's  temprimong  (as  the  Parishers 
say)  too  well  to  let  her  long  out  of  his  site.  She  had 
nine  thousand  a-yer.  She'd  been  in  love  a  duzn  times 
befor,  and  mite  be  agin.  The  Honrabble  Algernon 
Deuceace  was  a  little  too  ^^^.de  awake  to  trust  much  to 
the  constnsy  of  so  very  inflammable  a  young  creacher. 
Heavn  bless  us,  it  was  a  marycle  she  wasn't  earlier 
manied !  I  do  bleave  (from  suttn  scans  that  past  be- 
twigst  us)  that  she'd  have  married  me,  if  she  hadn't 
been  sejuiced  by  the  supearor  rank  and  indianuity  of 
the  genlmn  in  whose  survace  I  was. 

Well,  to  use  a  commin  igspreshn,  the  beaks  were 
after  him.  How  was  he  to  manitch  ?  He  coodn  get 
away  from  his  debts,  and  he  wooden  quit  the  fare  objict 
of  his  affeckshns.  He  was  ableejd,  then,  as  the  French 
say,  to  he  perdew, — going  out  at  night,  like  a  howl  out 
of  a  hivy-bush,  and  retm'ning  in  the  daytime  to  his 


142  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

roast.  For  its  a  maxum  in  France  (and  I  wood  it  were 
followed  in  Ingland),  that  after  dark  no  man  is  lible  for 
his  detts ;  and  in  any  of  the  royal  gardens — the  Twil- 
laries,  the  Pally  Roil,  or  the  Lucksimbug,  for  example 
— a  man  may  wander  from  sunrise  to  evening,  and  hear 
nothing  of  the  ojus  dunns :  they  an't  admitted  into  these 
places  of  public  enjyment  and  rondyvoo  any  more  than 
dogs ;  the  centuries  at  the  garden  gate  having  orders  to 
shuit  all  such. 

Master,  then,  was  in  this  imcomA-able  situation — 
neither  liking  to  go  nor  to  stay  ;  peeping  out  at  nights 
to  have  an  interview  with  his  miss  ;  ^  ableagd  to  shuffle 
off  her  repeated  questions  as  to  the  reason  of  all  this 
disgeise,  and  to  talk  of  his  two  thowsnd  a-year,  jest  as 
if  he  had  it,  and  didn't  owe  a  shilling  in  the  world. 

Of  course,  now,  he  began  to  gi'ow  mighty  eager  for 
the  marritch. 

He  roat  as  many  noats  as  she  had  done  befor ;  swoar 
aginst  delay  and  cerymony  ;  talked  of  the  pleasures  of 
Hyming,  the  ardship  that  the  ardor  of  two  arts  should 
be  allowed  to  igspire,  the  folly  of  waiting  for  the  con- 
sent of  Lady  Griffin.  She  was  but  a  step-mother,  and 
an  unkind  one.  Miss  was  (he  said)  a  major,  might 
marry  whom  she  liked  ;  and  suttnly  had  paid  Lady  G. 
quite  as  much  attention  as  she  ought,  by  paying  her 
the  compliment  to  ask  her  at  all. 

And  so  they  went  on.  The  curious  thing  was,  that 
when  master  was  pressed  about  his  cause  for  not  coming 
out  till  night-time,  he  was  misterus ;  and  Miss  Griffin, 
when  asked  why  she  wooden  marry,  igsprest,  or  rather, 
didnH  igspress,  a  simlar  secrasy.     Wasn't  it  hard  ?  the 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  143 

cup  seemed  to  be  at  the  lip  of  botli  of  'em,   and  yet 
somehow,  they  could  not  manitch  to  take  a  drink. 

But  one  morning,  in  reply  to  a  most  desprat  epistol 
wrote  by  my  master  over  night,  Deuceace,  delighted, 
gits  an  answer  from  his  soal's  beluffd,  which  ran  thus : 

"  Miss  Griffin  to  the  Hon.  A.  P.  Deuceace. 

"  Dearest, — You  say  you  would  share  a  cottage 
with  me ;  there  is  no  need,  luckily,  for  that !  You 
plead  the  sad  sinking  of  your  spirits  at  our  delayed 
union.  Beloved,  do  you  think  my  heart  rejoices  at  our 
separation  ?  You  bid  me  disregard  the  refusal  of  Lady 
Griffin,  and  tell  me  that  I  owe  her  no  further  duty. 

"  Adored  Algernon  !  I  can  refuse  you  no  more.  I 
was  willing  not  to  lose  a  single  chance  of  reconciliation 
with  this  unnatm-al  stepmother.  Kespect  for  the  me- 
mory of  my  sainted  father  bid  me  do  all  in  my  power  to 
gain  her  consent  to  my  union  with  you ;  nay,  shall  I 
own  it,  prudence  dictated  the  measure ;  for  to  whom 
should  she  leave  the  share  of  money  accorded  to  her 
by  my  father's  will  but  to  my  father's  child. 

"  But  there  are  bounds  beyond  which  no  forbear- 
ance can  go  ;  and,  thank  Heaven,  we  have  no  need  of 
looking  to  Lady  Griffin  for  sordid  wealth :  we  have  a 
competency  without  her.    Is  it  not  so,  dearest  Algernon  ? 

"  Be  it  as  you  wish,  then,  dearest,  bravest,  and  best. 
Yom*  poor  Matilda  has  yielded  to  you  her  heart  long  ago  ; 
she  has  no  longer  need  to  keep  back  her  name.  Xame 
the  hour,  and  I  will  delay  no  more ;  but  seek  for  re- 
fuge in  your  arms  from  the  contumely  and  insult  which 
meet  me  ever  here. 

"  Matilda. 


144  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

"  P.  S.  0,  Algernon !  if  you  did  but  know  what  a 
noble  part  your  dear  father  has  acted  throughout,  in 
doing  his  best  endeavours  to  further  our  plans,  and  to 
soften  Lady  Griffin !  It  is  not  his  fault  that  she  is  inex- 
orable as  she  is.  I  send  you  a  note  sent  by  her  to 
Lord  Crabs ;  we  will  laugh  at  it  soon,  rCest  ce  pas  /" 


II. 


"  My  Lord, — In  reply  to  your  demand  for  Miss 
Griffin's  hand,  in  favour  of  your  son,  Mr.  Algernon 
Deuceace,  I  can  only  repeat  what  I  before  have  been 
under  the  necessity  of  stating  to  you, — that  I  do  not 
believe  a  union  with  a  person  of  Mr.  Deuceace's  charac- 
ter would  conduce  to  my  step-daughter's  happiness,  and 
therefore  refuse  my  consent.  I  will  beg  you  to  commu- 
nicate the  contents  of  this  note  to  Mr.  Deuceace ;  and 
implore  you  no  more  to  touch  upon  a  subject  which 
you  must  be  aware  is  deeply  painful  to  me. 

"  I  remain  your  lordship's  most  humble  servant, 

L.  E.  Griffin. 
"  The  Right  Hon.  the  Earl  of  Crabs" 

"  Hang  her  ladyship  !"  says  my  master,  "  what  care  I 
for  it  ?"  As  for  the  old  lord  who'd  bean  so  afishous  in 
his  kindniss  and  advice,  master  recknsiled  that  pretty 
well,  with  thinking  that  his  lordship  knew  he  was  going 
to  marry  ten  thousand  a-year,  and  igspected  to  get 
some  share  of  it ;  for  he  roat  back  the  following  letter 
to  his  father,  as  well  as  a  flaming  one  to  miss : 

"  Thank  you,  my  dear  father,  for  your  kindness  in 


MR.    DEUCE  ACE.  145 

that  awkward  business.  You  know  how  painfully  I  am 
situated  just  now,  and  can  pretty  well  guess  both  the 
causes  cf  my  disquiet.  A  marriage  with  my  beloved 
Matilda  will  make  me  the  happiest  of  men.  The  dear 
girl  consents,  and  laughs  at  the  foolish  pretensions  of 
her  mother-in-law.  To  tell  you  the  truth,  I  wonder 
she  yielded  to  them  so  long.  Carry  your  kindness  a 
step  further,  and  find  for  us  a  parson,  a  licence,  and 
make  us  two  into  one.  We  are  both  major,  you  know; 
so  that  the  ceremony  of  a  guardian's  consent  is  unneces- 
sary. 

"  Your  affectionate 

"  Algerxox  Deuceace. 
"  How  I  regret  that  difference  between  us  some  time 
back!  Matters  are  changed  now,  and  shall  be  more  still 
after  the  marriage." 

I  knew  what  my  master  meant, — that  he  would 
give  the  the  old  lord  the  money  after  he  was  married ; 
and  as  it  was  probble  that  miss  would  see  the  letter  he 
roat,  he  made  it  such  as  not  to  let  her  see  two  clearly  in 
to  his  presnt  uncomfrable  situation. 

I  took  this  letter  along  with  the  tender  one  for 
miss,  reading  both  of  'em,  in  com-se,  by  the  way.  Miss, 
on  getting  hers,  gave  an  inegspressable  look  with  the 
white  of  her  i's,  kist  the  letter,  and  prest  it  to  her  busm. 
Lord  Crabs  read  his  quite  calm,  and  then  they  fell  a 
talking  together ;  and  told  me  to  wait  awhile,  and  I 
should  git  an  anser. 

After  a  deal  of  counseltation,  my  lord  brought  out  a 
card,  and  there  was  simply  written  on  it, 


140  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 


To-morrow,  at  the  Ambassador's, 
at  Twelve. 


"  Carry  that  back  to  your  master,  Cliawls,"  says  he, 
"  and  bid  him  not  to  fail." 

You  may  be  sure  I  stept  back  to  him  pretty  quick, 
and  gave  him  the  card  and  the  messinge.  Master  look- 
ed sattasfied  with  both ;  but  suttnly  not  over  happy  ; 
no  man  is  the  day  before  his  marridge ;  much  more 
his  marridge  vrith  a  hump-back,  Harriss  though  she  be. 

"Well,  as  he  was  a  going  to  depart  this  bachelor  life,  he 
did  what  every  man  in  such  suckmstansies  ought  to  do  ; 
he  made  his  will, — that  is,  he  made  a  dispasition  of  his 
property,  and  wrote  letters  to  his  creditors  telling  them 
of  his  lucky  chance;  and  that  after  his  marriage  he 
would  sutnly  pay  them  every  stiver.  Before,  they  must 
know  his  povvaty  well  enough  to  be  sure  that  paymint 
was  out  of  the  question. 

To  do  him  justas,  he  seam'd  to  be  inclined  to  do 
the  thing  that  was  right,  now  that  it  didn't  put  him 
to  any  inkinvenients  to  do  so. 

"  Chawls,"  says  he,  handing  me  over  a  tenpun  note, 
"  Here's  your  wagis,  and  thank  you  for  getting  me  out 
of  the  scrape  with  the  bailiffs  :  when  you  are  married, 
you  shall  be  my  valet  out  of  liv'ry,  and  I'll  treble  your 
salary." 

His  vallit !  praps  his  butler  !  Yes,  thought  I,  here's 
a  chance — a  vallit  to  ten  thousand  a-year.  Nothing 
to  do  but  to  shave  him,  and  read  his  notes,  and  let  mj 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  147 


wiskers  grow ;  to  dress  in  spick  and  span  black,  and  a 
clean  shut  per  day  ;  mnfBngs  every  night  in  the  house- 
keeper's room ;  the  pick  of  the  gals  in  the  servnts'  hall ; 
a  chap  to  clean  my  boots  for  me,  and  my  master's  oppra 
bone  reglar  once  a-week.  /  knew  what  a  valht  was  as 
well  as  any  genlmn  in  service ;  and  this  I  can  tell  you, 
he's  genrally  a  hapier,  idler,  hundsomer,  mor  genlmnly 
man  than  his  master.  He  has  more  money  to  spend, 
for  genlmn  will  leave  their  silver  in  their  weskit  pock- 
ets ;  more  suxess  among  the  gals ;  as  good  dinners, 
and  as  good  'v\dne — that  is,  if  he's  friends  with  the  but- 
ler, and  friends  in  corse  they  will  be  if  they  know  which 
way  their  interest  hes. 

But  these  are  onlycassels  in  the  air,  what  the  French 
call  shutter  d'Espang.  It  wasn't  roat  in  the  book  of 
fate  that  I  was  to  be  Mr.  Deuceace's  vallit. 

Days  will  pass  at  last — even  days  befor  a  wedding, 
(the  longist  and  unpleasantist  day  in  the  whole  of  a 
man's  life,  I  can  tell  you,  excep,  may  be,  the  day  before 
his  hanging)  ;  and  at  length  Aroarer  dawned  on  the 
suspicious  morning  which  was  to  unite  in  the  bonds  of 
Hyming  the  Honrabble  Algernon  Percy  Deuceace, 
Exquire,  and  Miss  Matilda  Griffin.  My  master's  ward- 
robe wasn't  so  rich  as  it  had  been ;  for  he'd  left  the 
whole  of  his  nicknax  and  trumpry  of  dressing  cases  and 
rob  dy  shams,  his  bewtifle  museum  of  varnished  boots, 
his  curous  colleckshn  of  Stulz  and  Staub  coats  when  he 
had  been  ableagvd  to  quit  so  sudnly  our  pore  dear 
lodg-inx  at  the  Hotel  Mirabew ;  and,  being  incog  at  a 
friend's  house,  had  contentid  himself  with  ordring  a  coople 
of  shoots  of  cloves  from  a  common  tailor,  with  a  suffi 
shnt  quantaty  of  linning. 


148  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

Well,  lie  put  on  the  best  of  his  coats — a  blue;  and 
I  thought  it  my  duty  to  ask  him  whether  he'd  want 
his  frock  again ;  and  he  was  good  natured  and  said, 
"  Take  it  and  be  hanged  to  you."  And  half-past  eleven 
o'clock  came,  and  I  was  sent  to  look  out  at  the  door,  if 
there  were  any  suspicious  charicters  (a  precious  good 
nose  I  have  to  find  a  baiHfi"  out,  I  can  tell  you,  and  an 
i  which  will  almost  see  one  round  a  corner)  ;  and  pre- 
snly  a  very  modest  green  glass-coach  droave  up,  and  in 
master  stept.  I  didn't,  in  corse,  appear  on  the  box ; 
because,  being  known,  my  appearlnts  might  have  com- 
promised master.  But  I  took  a  short  cut,  and  walked 
as  quick  as  posbil  down  to  the  Rue  de  Foburg  St. 
Honore,  where  his  exlnsy  the  English  ambasdor  lives, 
and  where  marridges  are  always  performed  betwigst 
English  folk  at  Paris. 

^  %  %  -  ^  Hi 

There  is,  almost  nex  door  to  the  ambasdor's  hotel, 
another  hotel,  of  that  lo  kind  which  the  French  call  cab- 
bjrays,  or  wine  houses  ;  and  jest  as  master's  green  glass- 
coach  pulled  up,  another  coach  drove  off,  out  of  which 
came  two  ladies,  whom  I  knew  pretty  well, — suffiz,  that 
one  had  a  humpback,  and  the  ingenious  reader  well 
knew  why  she  came  there ;  the  other  was  poor  Miss 
Kicksey,  who  came  see  her  turned  off. 

Well,  masters  glass-coach  droav  up  jest  as  I  got  with- 
in a  few  yards  of  the  door ;  our  carridge,  I  say,  droav  up, 
and  stopt.  Down  gits  coachmin  to  open  the  door,  and 
comes  I  to  give  Mr.  Deuceace  an  arm,  when — out  of 
the  cabaray  shoot  four  fellows,  and  draw  up  betwigst  the 
coach  and  embassy-doar ;  two  other  chaps  go  to  the 
other  doar  of  the  carridge,  and,  opening  it,  one  says — 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  149 


"  Reiidez  vous,  AT.  Deuceace  !  Je  vous  arrete  au  nom  de 
la  hi  /"  (which  means,  "  Get  out  of  that,  Mr.  D. ;  you 
are  nabbed,  and  no  mistake)."  Master  turned,  gashly 
pail,  and  sprung  to  the  other  side  of  the  coach,  as  if  a 
serpint  had  stung  him.  He  flung  open  the  door,  and 
was  for  making  off  that  way ;  but  he  saw  the  four  chaps 
standing  betwigst  Hbbarty  and  him.  He  slams  down  the 
front  window, -and  screams  out,  ''''Fouettez,  cocher  P"* 
(which  means,  "  Go  it,  coachmin !")  in  a  despert  loud 
voice ;  but  coachmin  wooden  go  it,  and  besides,  was  off 
his  box. 

The  long  and  short  of  the  matter  was,  that  jest  as  I 
came  up  to  the  door  two  of  the  bums  jumped  into  the 
cai-ridge.  I  saw  all ;  I  knew  my  duty,  and  so  very 
momfly  I  got  up  behind. 

"  Tkns,"  says  one  of  the  chaps  in  the  street ;  "  c'est 
ce  drole  qui  nous  a  hue  V autre  jour P  I  knew  'em.  but 
was  too  melumcolly  to  smile. 

"  Om  irons-nous  done  P  says  coachmin  to  the  genlmn 
who  had  got  inside. 

A  deep  woice  fi-om  the  intearor  shouted  out,  in  reply 
to  the  coachmin,  "  a  saixte  pelagie  I" 

And  now,  praps,  I  ot  to  dixcribe  to  you  the  humours 
of  the  prizn  of  Sainte  Pelagie,  which  is  the  French  for 
Fleat,  or  Queen's  Bentch ;  but  on  this  subject  I'm  ra- 
ther shy  of  writing,  partly  because  the  admu-al  Boz  has, 
in  the  history  of  Mr.  Pickwick,  made  such  a  dixcripshun 
of  a  prizn,  that  mine  wooden  read  veiy  amyousingly  af- 
terwids ;  and,  also,  because,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  didn't 
stay  long  in  it,  being  not  in  a  himier  to  waist  my  igsist- 


150  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 


auce  by  passing  away  tlie  ears  of  my  youth  in  siicli  a 
dull  place. 

My  fust  eri'int  now  was,  as  you  may  phansy,  to 
carry  a  noat  from  master  to  his  destined  bride.  The 
poar  thing  was  sadly  taken  aback,  as  I  can  tell  you, 
when  she  found,  after  remaining  two  hours  at  the  Em- 
bassy, that  her  husband  didn't  make  his  appearance. 
And  so,  after  staying  on  and  on,  and  yet  seeing  no  hus- 
band, she  was  forsed  at  last  to  trudge  dishconslit  home, 
Y/here  I  was  already  waiting  for  her  with  a  letter  from 
my  master. 

There  was  no  use  now  denying  the  fact  of  his  arrest, 
and  so  he  confest  it  at  oust ;  but  he  made  a  cock-and- 
bull  story  of  treachery  of  a  friend,  infimous  fodgery,  and 
Heaven  knows  what.  However,  it  didn't  matter  much ; 
if  he  had  told  her  that  he  had  been  betrayed  by  the  man 
in  the  moon,  she  would  have  bleavd  him. 

Lady  Griffin  never  used  to  appear  now  at  any  of  my 
visits.  She  kep  one  drawing-room,  and  Miss  dined  and 
lived  alone  in  another ;  they  quarld  so  much  that  praps 
it  was  best  they  should  hve  apart :  only  my  Lord  Crabs 
used  to  see  both,  comforting  each  with  that  winning  and 
innsnt  way  he  had.  He  came  in  as  Miss,  in  tears,  was 
lisning  to  my  account  of  master's  seazure,  and  hopin 
that  the  prisn  wasn't  a  horrid  place,  with  a  nasty  horrid 
dunjeon,  and  a  dreadfle  jailer,  and  nasty  horrid  bread 
and  water.  Law  bless  us  !  she  had  borrod  her  ideers 
from  the  novvles  she  had  been  reading ! 

"  O  my  lord,  my  lord,"  says  she,  "  have  you  heard 
this  fatal  story  ?" 

"Dearest  Matilda,  what?  For  Heaven's  sake,  you 
alarm  me !     "What— yes— no— is  it— no,  it  cant'  be  ! 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  151 


Speak !"  says  my  lord,  seizing  me  by  tlie  clioler  of  my 
coat,  "  Tfliat  has  happened  to  my  boy  ?" 

"  Please  you,  my  lord,"  says  I,  "  he's  at  this  nioment 
in  prisn,  no  wuss, — ^having  been  incarserated  abont  two 
houi's  ago." 

"  Tn  prison  !  Algernon  in  prison !  'tis  impossible  ! 
Imprisoned,  for  what  sum  ?  Mention  it,  and  I  Tvill  pay 
to  the  utmost  farthing  in  my  power." 

"  I'm  sure  your  lordshij)  is  very  kind,"  says  I  (reck- 
lecting  the  s^an  betwigst  him  and  master,  whom  he 
wanted  to  diddil  out  of  a  thowsand  lb.)  ;  "  and  you'll  be 
happy  to  hear  he's  only  in  for  a  tiiiie.  Five  thousand 
pound  is,  I  think,  pretty  near  the  mark." 

"  Five  thousand  pounds  ! — confusion  !"  says  my  lord, 
clasping  his  hands,  and  looking  up  to  heaven,  "  and  I 
have  not  five  hundi'ed !  Dearest  Matilda,  how  shall  we 
help  him  ?" 

"  Alas,  my  lord,  I  have  but  three  guineas,  and  you 
know  how  Lady  Griffin  has  the " 

"  Yes,  my  sweet  child,  I  know  what  you  would  say ; 
but  be  of  good  cheer — x^lgemon,  you  know,  has  ample 
fimds  of  his  own." 

Thinking  my  lord  meant  DawMns's  five  thousand, 
of  which,  to  be  sure,  a  good  lump  was  left,  I  held  my 
tung  ;  but  I  cooden  help  wondering  at  Lord  Crab's  igs- 
tream  compashn  for  his  son,  and  miss,  with  her  10,000/. 
a-year,  having  only  3  guineas  m  her  pocMt. 

I  took  home  (bless  us,  what  a  home  ?)  a  long  and 
very  inflamble  letter  from  miss,  in  which  she  dixsciibed 
her  own  sorror  at  the  disappointment ;  swoar  she  lov'd 
him  only  the  moar  for  his  misfortns  ;  made  light  of 
them ;  as  a  pusson  for  a  paltry  sum  of  five  thousand 


152  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

pound  ouglit  never  to  be  cast  clown,  'specially  as  he  had 
a  certain  independence  in  view ;  and  vowd  that  nothing, 
nothing*  should  ever  injuice  her  to  part  from  him,  et- 
settler,  etsettler. 

I  told  master  of  th$  conversation  which  had  pastbe- 
twigst  me  and  my  lord,  and  of  his  handsome  offers,  and 
his  borrow  at  hearing  of  his  son's  being  taken :  and 
likewise  mentioned  how  strange  it  was  that  miss  should 
only  have  3  guineas,  and  with  such  a  fortn  :  bless  us, 
I  should  have  thot  that  she  would  always  have  carried 
a  hundred  thowsnd  lb.  in  her  pocMt ! 

At  this  master  only  said  Pshaw  !  But  the  rest  of 
the  stoiy  about  his  father  seemed  to  dixquiet  him  a  good 
deal,  and  he  made  me  repeat  it  over  agin. 

He  walked  up  and  down  the  room  agytated,  and  it 
seam'd  as  if  a  new  hte  was  breaking  in  upon  him. 

"  Chawls,"  says  he,  "  did  you  observe — did  miss — 
did  my  father  seem  particularly  intimate  with  Miss 
Griffin?" 

"How  do  you  mean,  sir?"  says  I. 

"  Did  Lord  Crabs  appear  very  fond  of  Miss  Griffin  ?" 

"  He  was  suttnly  very  kind  to  her." 

"  Come,  sir,  speak  at  once ;  did  Miss  Griffin  seem 
very  fond  of  his  lordship  ?" 

"  Why,  to  tell  the  truth,  sir,  I  must  say  she  seemed 
very  fond  of  him." 

"What  did  he  call  her?" 

"  He  called  her  his  dearest  gal." 

"Did  he  take  her  hand?" 

"Yes,  and  he— " 

"And  he  what?" 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  153 


"  He  Mst  her,  and  told  her  not  to  be  so  wery  down- 
hearted about  the  misfortn  -vrhich  had  hapnd  to  you." 

"  I  have  it  now !"  says  he,  clmching  his  fist,  and 
growing  gashly  pail — "  I  have  it  now — the  infernal  old 
hoary  scoundrel !  the  wicked  unnatural  wretch  !  He 
would  take  her  from  me  !"  And  he  poured  out  a  volley 
of  oaves  which  are  impossbill  to  be  repeatid  here. 

I  thot  as  much  long  ago  :  and  when  my  lord  kem 
\vith  his  vizits  so  pretious  affeckshnt  at  my  Lady  Grif- 
finses,  I  expected  some  such  game  was  in  the  wind.  In- 
deed, I'd  heard  a  somethink  of  it  from  the  Griffinses 
ser%Tits,  that  my  lord  was  mighty  tender  with  the  ladies. 

One  thing,  however,  was  evident  to  a  man  of  his  in- 
tleckshal  capassaties ;  he  must  either  marry  the  gal  at 
oust,  or  he  stood  very  small  chance  of  having  her.  He 
must  git  out  of  limbo  immediantly,  or  his  respectid  fa- 
ther might  be  stepping  into  his  vaykint  shoes.  Oh  !  he 
saw  it  all  now — the  fust  attempt  at  arest,  the  marridge 
fixt  at  12  o'clock,  and  the  bayliffs  fixt  to  come  and  in- 
tarup  the  marridge ! — the  jewel,  praps,  betwigst  him 
and  De  I'Orge  :  but  no,  it  was  the  woman  who  did  that 
— a  man  don't  deal  such  fowl  blows,  igspeciaUy  a  father 
to  his  son  :  a  woman  may,  poar  thing  ! — she's  no  other 
means  of  reventch,  and  is  used  to  fight  with  imder-hand 
wepns  all  her  life  through. 

Well,  whatever  the  pint  might  be,  this  Deuceace  saw 
pretty  clear,  that  he'd  been  beat  by  his  father  at  his  ovm. 
game — a  trapp  set  for  him  oust,  which  had  been  defitted 
by  my  presnts  of  mind — another  trap  set  afterwids,  in 
which  my  lord  had  been  suxesfle.  Now,  my  lord,  roag 
as  he  was,  was  much  too  good-naterd  to  do  an  unkind 
ackshn,  mearly  for  the  sake  of  doing  it.  He'd  got  to 
7* 


154  THE    YELLOWPLUSII    PAPERS. 

that  pich  tliat  lie  didn't  mind  injaries — tliey  were  all 
fair  play  to  him — he  gave  'em,  and  reseav'd  them,  with- 
out a  thought  of  malhs.  If  he  wanted  to  injer  his  son, 
it  was  to  henefick  himself.  And  how  was  this  to  be 
done  ?  By  getting  the  hahiss  to  himself,  to  be  sure. 
The  Honrabble  Mr.  D.  didn't  say  so,  but  I  knew  hk 
feelinx  well  enough — ^he  regTetted  that  he  had  not  given 
the  old  genlmn  the  money  he  askt  for. 

Poar  fello !  he  thought  he  had  hit  it.  but  he  was 
wide  of  the  mark  after  all. 

Well,  but  what  was  to  be  done  ?  It  was  clear  that 
he  must  marry  the  gal  at  any  rate — cootlcT/  coot,  as  the 
French  say ;  that  is,  marry  her,  and  hang  the  igspence. 

To  do  so  he  must  ftist  git  out  of  prisn — to  git  out  of 
prisn  he  must  pay  his  debts — and  to  pay  his  debts,  he 
must  give  every  shilling  he  was  worth.  Never  mind, 
four  thousand  pound  is  a  small  stake  to  a  reglar  gam- 
bler, igspecially  when  he  must  play  it,  or  rot  for  life  in 
prisn,  and  when,  if  he  plays  it  well,  it  will  give  him  ten 
thousand  a-year. 

So,  seeing  there  was  no  help  for  it,  he  maid  up  his 
mind,  and  accordingly  wrote  the  follj-ing  letter  to  Miss 
Griffin  :— 

"My  adored  Matilda, — Your  letter  has  indeed 
been  a  comfort  to  a  poor  fellow,  who  had  hoped  that 
this  nio-ht  would  have  been  the  most  blessed  in  his  hfe, 

o 

and  now  finds  himseif  condemned  to  spend  it  within  a 
prison  wall  1  You  know  the  accursed  conspiracy  which 
has  brought  these  liabilities  upon  me,  and  the  foolish 
friendship  which  has  cost  me  so  much.  But  what  mat- 
ters ?  We  have,  as  you  say,  cDOUgh,  even  though  I 
must  pay  this  shameful    demand    npon  me;  and  five 


MR.    DEUCE  ACE.  155 


thousand  pounds  are  as  notliing,  compared  to  the  happi- 
ness which  I  lose  in  being  separated  a  night  from  thee ! 
Courage,  however !  If  I  make  a  sacrifice,  it  is  for  you ; 
and  I  were  heartless  indeed,  if  I  allowed  my  own  losses 
to  balance  for  a  moment  against  your  happiness. 

"  Is  it  not  so,  beloved  one  ?  Is  not  your  happmess 
bound  up  with  mine,  in  a  union  with  me  ?  I  am  proud 
to  think  so — proud,  too,  to  offer  such  a  humble  proof  as 
this  of  the  depth  and  pm-ity  of  my  affection. 

"  TeU  me  that  you  will  still  be  mine ;  tell  me  that 
you  will  be  mine  to-morrow  ;  and  to-morrow  these  vile 
chains  shall  be  removed,  and  I  will  be  free  once  more — 
or  if  bound,  only  bound  to  you !  My  adorable  Matilda ! 
my  betrothed  bride  !  write  to  me  ere  the  evening  closes, 
for  I  shall  never  be  able  to  shut  my  eyes  in  slumber 
upon  my  prison-couch,  until  they  have  been  first  blest 
by  the  sight  of  a  few  words  from  thee  !  Write  to  me, 
love !  write  to  me  !  I  languish  for  the  reply  which  is 
to  make  or  mar  me  for  ever. 

"  Your  affectionate, 

"A.  P.  D." 

Having  polisht  off  this  epi^tol,  master  intrustid  it  to 
me  to  carry,  and  bade  me,  at  the  same  time,  to  try  and 
give  it  into  IMiss  Griffin's  hand  alone.  I  ran  with  it  to 
Lady  Griffinses.  I  found  miss,  as  I  desired,  in  a  solla- 
taiy  condition ;  and  I  presented  her  with  master's  pa- 
fewmed  Billy. 

She  read  it,  and  the  number  of  size  to  which  she 
gave  vint,  and  the  tears  which  she  shed,  beggar  dig- 
scription.      She  wep  and  sighed  imtil  I  thought  she 


156  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

would  bust.  She  claspt  my  hand  even  in  her's,  and 
said,  "  O,  Charles  !  is  he  very,  very  miserable  ?" 

"  He  is,  ma'am,"  says  I ;  "  very  miserable  indeed — 
nobody,  upon  my  honour,  could  be  miserablerer." 

On '  hearing  this  pethetic  remark,  her  mind  was 
made  up  at  onst :  and  sitting  down  to  her  eskrewtaw, 
she  immediantly  ableaged  master  with  an  anser.  Here 
it  is  in  black  and  white. 

"  My  prisoned  bird  shall  pine  no  more,  but  fly  home 
to  its  nest  in  these  arms !  Adored  Algernon,  I  will 
meet  thee  to-morrow,  at  the  same  place,  at  the  same 
hour.  Then,  then,  it  will  be  impossible  for  aught  but 
death  to  divide  us.  "  M.  G." 

This  kind  of  flumry  stile  comes,  you  see,  of  reading 
novvles,  and  cultivating  littery  purshuits  in  a  small  way. 
How  much  better  is  it  to  be  pufEckly  ignorant  of  the 
hart  of  writing,  and  to  trust  to  the  writing  of  the  heart. 
This  is  my  style ;  artyfiz  I  despise,  and  trust  compleatly 
to  natm* :  but  revnong  a  no  mootong^  as  our  continential 
friends  remark,  to  that  nice  white  sheep,  Algernon  Percy 
Deuceace,  Exquu-e ;  that  wenrabble  old  ram,  my  Lord 
Crabs,  his  father ;  and  that  tender  and  dellygit  young 
lamb.  Miss  Matilda  GriflSn. 

She  had  just  foalded  up  into  its  proper  triangular 
shape  the  noat  transcribed  abuff,  and  I  was  jest  on  the 
point  of  saying,  according  to  my  master's  orders,  "  Miss, 
if  you  please,  the  Honrabble  Mr.  Deuceace  would  be 
very  much  ableaged  to  you  to  keep  the  seminary  which 

is  to  take  place  to-morrow  a  profound  se ,"  wh^n 

my  master's  father  entered,  and  I  fell  back  to  the  door. 
Miss,  without  a  word,  rusht  into  his  arms,  bust  into 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  -157 


teers  agin,  as  was  her  reglar  way  (it  must  be  confest  she 
was  of  a  very  mist  constitution),  and  shewing  to  him 
his  son's  note,  cried,  "  Look,  my  dear  lord,  how  nobly 
your  Algernon,  our  Algernon,  writes  to  me.  Who  can 
doubt  after  this  of  the  purity  of  his  matchless  affection  ?'' 

My  lord  took  the  letter,  read  it,  seamed  a  good  deal 
amyoused,  and  returning  it  to  its  owner,  said,  very  much 
to  my  surprise,  "My  dear  Miss  Griffin,  he  certainly 
does  seem  in  earnest ;  and  if  you  choose  to  make  this 
match  without  the  consent  of  your  mother-in-law,  you 
know  the  consequence,  and  are  of  course  your  own  mis- 
tress." 

"  Consequences ! — for  shame,  my  lord  !  A  little 
money,  more  or  less,  what  matters  it  to  two  heai-ts  like 
ours  ?" 

"Hearts  are  very  pretty  things,  my  sweet  yoimg 
lady,  but  three  per  cents,  are  better." 

"  l^ay,  have  we  not  an  ample  income  of  our  own, 
without  the  aid  of  Lady  Griffin  ?" 

My  lord  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "Be  it  so,  my 
love,"  says  he.  "  I'm  sure  I  can  have  no  other  reason 
to  prevent  a  union  which  is  founded  upon  such  disinter- 
ested affection." 

And  here  the  conversation  dropt.  Miss  retired, 
clasping  her  hands,  and  making  play  with  the  whites 
of  her  i's.  My  lord  began  trotting  up  and  down  the 
room,  with  his  fat  hands  stuck  in  his  britches  pockits, 
his  countnince  hghted  up  with  igstream  joy,  and  sing- 
ing, to  my  inordnit  igstonishment : 

"See  the  conquering  hero  comes! 
Tiddy  diddy  doll— tiddydoll,  doll,  doll." 


158  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

He  began  singing  this  song,  and  tearing  up  and  down 
the  room  hke  mad.  I  stood  amaizd — a  new  light  broke 
in  upon  me.  He  wasn't  going,  then,  to  make  love  to 
Miss  Griffin !  Master  might  marry  her  !  Had  she  not 
got  the  for — ? 

I  say,  I  was  just  standing  stock  still,  my  eyes  fixt, 
my  hands  puppindicklar,  my  mouf  wide  open  and  these 
igstrordinary  thoughts  passing  in  my  mind,  when  my 
lord,  having  got  to  the  last  "  doll "  of  his  song,  just  as 
I  came  to  the  sillible  "  for  "  of  my  ventriloquism,  or  in- 
ward speech — we  had  eatch  jest  reached  the  pint  dig- 
scribed,  when  the  meditations  of  both  were  sudnly  stopt^ 
by  my  lord,  in  the  midst  of  his  singin  and  trottin  match, 
coming  bolt  up  aginst  poar  me,  sending  me  up  aginst 
one  end  of  the  room,  himself  flying  back  to  the  other ; 
and  it  was  only  after  considrabble  agitation  that  we  were 
at  length  restored  to  any  thing  like  a  liquilibrium. 

"  What,  you  here,  you  infernal  rascal  ?"  says  my 
lord. 

"  Your  lordship's  very  kind  to  notus  me,"  says  I ; 
"  I  am  here ;"  and  I  gave  him  a  look. 

He  saw  I  knew  the  whole  game. 

And  after  whisling  a  bit,  as  was  his  habit  when 
puzzled  (I  bleave  he'd  have  only  whisled  if  he  had  been 
told  he  was  to  be  hanged  in  five  minnits),  after  whisling 
a  bit,  he  stops  sudnly,  and  coming  up  to  me,  says  : 

"Hearkye,  Charles,  this  marriage  must  take  place 
to-morrow." 

"  Must  it,  sir,"  says  I ;  "  now,  for  my  part,  I  don't 
think " 

"  Stop,  my  good  fellow ;  if  it  does  not  take  place, 
what  do  you  gain  ?" 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  ]59 


Tliis  stao-ger'd  me.  It  it  liidii't  take  place,  I  only 
lost  a  situation,  for  master  had  but  just  enough  money 
to  pay  his  detts  ;  and  it  wooden  soot  my  book  to  serve 
him  in  prison  or  starving. 

"  "Well,"  says  my  lord,  ''  you  see  the  force  of  my 
aro-ument.  Xow,  look  here,"  and  he  lugs  out  a  crisp, 
fluttering,  sno^yy  hundred  pux  note  !  "  if  my  son  and 
Miss  Griffin  are  married  to-morrow,  you  shall  have  this  ; 
and  I  will,  moreover,  take  you  into  my  ser\dce,  and  give 
you  double  your  present  wages." 

Flesh  and  blood  cooden  bear  it.  "  My  lord,"  says 
I,  laying  my  hand  upon  my  busm,  "  only  give  me  se- 
curity, and  I'm  yours  for  ever." 

The  old  noblemin  giind,  and  pattid  me  on  the 
shoulder.  "Right,  my  lad,"  says  he,  "right — you're  a 
nice  promising  youth.  "  Here  is  the  best  security,"  and 
he  pulls  out  his  pocMt-book,  returns  the  hundred  pun 
bni,  and  takes  out  one  for  fifty — "  here  Is  half  to-day  ; 
to-morrow  you  shall  have  the  remainder." 

!Mv  fingers  trembled  a  httle  as  I  took  the  pretty 
fluttering  bit  of  paper,  about  five  times  as  big  as  any 
sum  of  money  I  had  ever  had  in  my  life.  I  cast  my 
i  upon  the  amount :  it  was  a  fifty  sure  enough — a  bank 
poss-bill,  made  payable  to  Leonora  Emilia  Griffin,  and 
indorsed  by  her.  The  cat  was  out  of  the  bag.  Xow, 
gentle  reader,  I  spose  you  begin  to  see  the  game. 

"  Recollect  from  this  day,  you  are  in  my  ser\'ice." 

"  My  lord,  you  overpoar  me  with  your  faviours." 

"  Go  to  the  de'vol,  sir,"  says  he,  "  do  your  duty,  and 
hold  your  tongue." 

And  thus  I  went  from  the  service  of  the  Honorabble 


160  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

Algernon  Deiiceace  to  that  of  his  exlnsy  the  Right 

Honorabble  Earl  of  Crabs. 

***** 

On  going  back  to  prisn,  I  found  Deuceace  locked 
up  in  that  oajus  place  to  which  his  igstravygansies  had 
deservedly  led  him,  and  felt  for  him,  I  must  say,  a  great 
deal  of  contemp.  A  raskle  such  as  he — a  swinler,  who 
had  robbed  poar  Dawkins  of  the  means  of  igsistance, 
who  had  cheated  his  fellow  roag,  Mr.  Richard  Blewitt, 
and  who  was  making  a  musnary  marridge  with  a  dis- 
gusting creacher  like  Miss  Griffin,  didn  merit  any  com- 
pashn  on  my  purt ;  and  I  determined  quite  to  keep  se- 
cret the  suckmstansies  of  my  privit  intervew  with  his 
exlnsy  my  presnt  master. 

I  gev  him  Miss  Griffinses  trianglar,  which  he  read 
with  a  satasfied  air.  Then,  turning  to  me,  says  he : 
"  You  gave  this  to  Miss  Griffin  alone  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  You  gave  her  my  message  ?" 

«  Yes,  sir." 

"  And  you  are  quite  sure  Lord  Crabs  was  not  there 
when  you  gave  either  the  message  or  the  note  ?" 

"  Xot  there  upon  my  honour,"  says  I. 

"Hang  your  honour,  sir  !  Brush  my  hat  and  coat, 

and  go  call  a  coach^  do  you  hear  ?" 

***** 

I  did  as  I  was  ordered ;  and  on  coming  back  found 
master  in  what's  called,  I  think,  the  greffe  of  the  prisn. 
The  officer  in  waiting  had  out  a  great  register,  and  was 
talking  to  master  in  the  French  tongue,  in  coarse ;  a 
number  of  poar  prisners  were  looking  eagerly  on. 

"Let  us  see,  my  lor,"  says  he  ;    the  debt  is  OSjVOO 


MR.   DEUCEACE.  161 


francs ;  there  are  capture  expenses,  interest  so  much  ; 
and  the  whole  sum  amounts  to  a  hundred  thousand 
francs,  moms  13. 

Deuceace,  in  a  very  myjestic  way,  takes  out  of  his 
pocket-book  four  thowsnd  pun  notes.  "  This  is  not 
French  money,  but  I  presume  that  you  know  it,  M. 
Greffier,"  says  he. 

The  greffier  turned  round  to  old  Solomon,  a  money- 
changer, who  had  one  or  two  chents  in  the  prisn,  and 
hapnd  luckily  to  be  there.  "  Les  billets  sont  bons,"  says 
he,  "je  les  prendrai  pour  cent  mille  douze  cent  francs, 
et  j'espere,  my  lor,  de  vous  revoir." 

"  Good,"  says  the  greffier ;  "  I  know  them  to  be  good 
and  I  will  give  my  lor  the  difference,  and  make  out  his 
release." 

Which  was  done.  The  poar  debtors  gave  a  feeble 
cheer,  as  the  great  dubble  iron  gates  swung  open,  and 
clang  to  again,  and  Deuceace  stept  out,  and  me  after 
him  to  breathe  the  fresh  haii*. 

He  had  been  in  the  place  but  six  hours,  and  was 
now  free  again — free,  and  to  be  married  to  ten  thou- 
sand a-year  nex  day.  But,  for  all  that,  he  lookt  very 
faint  and  pale.  He  had  put  down  his  great  stake ;  and 
when  he  came  out  of  Saint  Pelagic,  he  had  but  fifty 
pounds  left  in  the  world  ! 

Never  mind — when  onst  the  money's  down,  make 
your  mind  easy;  and  so  Deuceace  did.  He  di'ove 
back  to  the  Hotel  Mirabew,  where  he  ordered  apart- 
mince  infinately  more  splendid  than  befor ;  and  I  pretty 
soon  told  Toinette,  and  the  rest  of  the  suvvants,  how 
nobly  he  behayved,  and  how  he  valyoud  four  thousnd 
pound  no  more  than  ditch  water.     And  such  was  the 


162  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

consquiucies  of  my  praises,  and  the  poplarity  I  got  for 
us  boatli,  that  the  delighted  landlady  immediantly 
charged  him  dubble  what  she  would  have  done,  if  it 
hadn  been  for  my  stoaries. 

He  ordered  splendid  apartmince,  then,  for  the  nex 
week,  a  carriage  and  four  for  Fontainebleai:  to-morrow 
at  12  precisely;  and  having  settled  all  these  things, 
went  quietly  to  the  Roshy  de  Cancale,  where  he  dined, 
as  well  he  might,  for  it  was  now  eight  o'clock.  I 
didn't  spare  the  shompang  neither  that  night,  I  can  tell 
you  ;  for  when  I  carried  the  note  he  gave  me  for  Miss 
GrifSn  in  the  evenino-  informinof  her  of  his  freedom, 
that  young  lady  remarked  my  hagitated  manner  of 
walking  and  speaking,  and  said,  "  Honest  Charles  !  he 
is  flusht  with  the  events  of  the  day.  Here,  Charles,  is 
a  napoleon  ;  take  it  and  drink  to  your  mistress." 

I  pockitid  it,  but  I  must  say,  I  didn't  like  the  money 
■ — it  went  aginst  my  stomick  to  take  it. 

CHAPTER  IX. 

THE    MARRIAGE. 

Well,  the  nex  day  came  ;  at  12  the  carridge  and  four 
was  waiting  at  the  ambasdor's  doar ;  and  Miss  Griffin 
and  the  faithfle  Kicksy  were  punctial  to  the  apintment. 
I  don't  wish  to  digscribe  the  marridge  seminary — 
how  the  embasy  chapling  jined  the  hands  of  this  loving 
young  couple — how  one  of  the  embasy  footmin  was 
called  in  to  witness  the  marridge — how  miss  wep  and 
fainted,  as  usial — and  how  Deuceace  carried  her,  faint- 
ing, to  the  brisky,  and  drove  off  to  Fontingblo,  where 


MR.  DEUCEACE.  163 


they  were  to  pass  the  fust  weak  of  the  honej-moon. 
They  took  no  servnts,  because  they  wisht,  they  said,  to 
be  pridt.  And  so,  when  I  had  shut  up  the  steps,  and 
bid  the  postilion  drive  on,  I  bid  ajew  to  the  Honrabble 
Algernon,  ond  went  oft  strait  to  his  exlent  father. 

"  Is  it  all  over,  Chawls  ?"  says  he. 

"  I  saw  them  turned  off  at  igsackly  a  quarter  past 
12,  my  lord,"  says  I. 

"Did  you  give  Miss  Griffin  the  paper,  as  I  told 
you,  before  her  marriage  ?" 

"  I  did,  my  lord,  in  the  presnts  of  Mt.  Brown,  Lord 
Bobtail's  man,  who  can  swear  to  her  ha^ang  had  it." 

I  must  tell  you  that  my  lord  had  made  me  read  a 
paper  which  Lady  Griffin  had  written,  and  which  I 
was  comishnd  to  give  in  the  manner  menshnd  abuff. 
It  ran  to  this  effect : — 

"According  to  the  authority  given  me  by  the  will 
of  my  late  dear  husband,  I  forbid  the  marriage  of  Miss 
Griffin  with  the  Honourable  Algernon  Percy  Deuceace. 
If  Miss  Griffin  persists  in  the  union,  I  warn  her  that  she 
ra.ust  abide  by  the  consequences  of  her  act. 

"  Leoxora  Emilia  Griffin. 
"  Rue  de  Rivoli,  May  8,  1818." 

When  I  gave  this  to  Miss  as  she  entered  the  cort- 
yard,  a  minnit  before  my  master's  arrivle,  she  only  read 
it  contemptiously,  and  said,  "  I  laugh  at  the  threats  of 
Lady  Griffin  ;"  and  she  toar  the  paper  in  two,  and  walk- 
ed on,  leaning  on  the  arm  of  the  faithful  and  obleaging 
Miss  Kicksey. 

I  picked  up  the  paper  for  fear  of  axdents,  and  brot 
it  to  mv  lord.     Not  that  there  was  any  necessaty,  for 


164  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

he'd  kep  a  copy,  and  made  me  and  another  witniss 
(my  Lady  Griffin's  solissator)  read  them  both,  before  he 
sent  either  away. 

"  Good !"  says  he ;  and  he  projuiced  from  his  pot- 
folio  the  fello  of  that  bewchus  fifty-pun  note,  which  he'd 
given  me  yesterday.  "  I  keep  my  promise,  you  see 
Charles,"  says  he.  "  You  are  now  in  Lady  Griffin's 
ser\dce,  in  the  place  of  Mr.  Fitzclarence,  who  retires. 
Go  to  Froje's,  and  get  a  livery." 

"  But,  my  lord,"  says  I,  "  I  was  not  to  go  into 
Lady  Griffinses  service,  according  to  the  bargain,  but 
into " 

"  It's  all  the  same  thing,"  says  he ;  and  he  walked 
ofi".  I  went  to  Mr.  Froje's,  and  ordered  a  new  hvry  ; 
and  found,  hckwise,  that  our  coachmin,  and  Munseer 
Mortimer  had  been  there  too.  My  lady's  livery  was 
changed,  and  was  now  of  the  same  color  as  my  old 
coat,  at  Mr.  Deuceace's  ;  and  I'm  blest  if  there  wasn't 
a  tremenjious  great  earl's  corronit  on  the  butns,  instid 
of  the  Griffin  rampint,  which  was  worn  befoar. 

I  asked   no    questions,   however,   but   had  myself 

measured ;  and  slep  that  night  at  the  Plas  Vandome. 

I  didn't  go   out  with  the  carridge  for  a  day  or  two, 

though ;  my  lady  only  taking  one  footmin,  she  said, 

until  her  new  carridge  was  turned  out. 

I  think  you  can  guess  what's  in  the  wind  now  ! 

I  bot  myself  a  dressing  case,  a  box  of  Ody  colong, 
a  few  duzen  lawn  sherts  and  neckcloths,  and  other 
things  which  were  necessary  for  a  genlmn  in  my  rank. 
Silk  stockings  was  pro\aded  by  the  rules  of  the  house. 
And  I  completed  the  bisniss  by  writing  the  foUying 
ginjteel  letter  to  my  late  master  : — 


MR.    DEUCEAGE.  165 


"  Charles  Yellowplush,  Esquire  to  the  honour- 
able A.  PrDEUCEACE. 

"Sur, — Suckmstansies  have  acurd  sins  I  last  had 

the  homier  of  wating  on  you,  which  render  it  imposs- 

bill  that  I  should  remane  any  longer  in  your  suvvice, 

I'll  thank  you  to  leave  out  my  thinx,  when  they  come 

home  on  Sattady  from  the  wash. 

"  Your  obeajnt  servnt, 

Charles  Yellowplush. 
"  Plas  Vendame" 

The  athografy  of  the  abuv  noat,  I  confess,  is  atro- 
cious ;  but,  Jce  voolyvoo  ?  I  was  only  eighteen,  and  hadn 
then  the  expearance  in  writing  which  I've  enjide  sins. 

Ha\nng  thus  done  my  jewty  in  eviy  way,  I  shall 
prosead,  in  the  nex  chapter,  to  say  what  hapnd  in  my 
new  place, 

CHAPTER  X. 

THE  HOXEY-MOOX. 

The  weak  at  Fontingblow  past  quickly  away  ;  and  at 
the  end  of  it,  our  son  and  daughter-in-law — a  pare  of 
nice  young  tuttle-duvs — returned  to  their  nest,  at  the 
Hotel  Mirabew.  I  suspeck  that  the  coch  turtle-dove 
was  preshos  sick  of  his  barging. 

When  they  arriv'd,  the  fust  thing  they  foimd  on 
their  table  was  a  large  parsle  wrapt  up  in  silver  paper, 
and  a  newspaper,  and  a  couple  of  cards,  tied  up  with  a 
peace  of  white  ribbing.  In  the  parsle  was  a  hansume 
piece  of  plum-cake,  "v^'ith  a  deal  of  sugar.  On  the  cards 
was  \vrote,  in  Goffick  characters. 


166 


THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 


32arl  oi  C^raJijj. 


And,  in  very  small  Italian, 


Countess  of  Crabs. 


And  in  the  paper  was  the  follying  parrowgraff : — 

"Marriage  in  High  Life. — Yesterday,  at  the  British  em- 
bassy, the  Eight  Honourable  John  Augustus  Altamont  Plan- 
tagenet,  Earl  of  Crabs,  to  Leonora  Emilia,  widow  of  the  late 
Lieutenant-General  Sir  George  Griffin,  K.  C.  B.  An  elegant 
dejeune  was  given  to  the  happy  couple,  by  his  excellency  Lord 
Bobtail,  who  gave  away  the  bride.  The  elite  of  the  foreign 
diplomacy,  the  Prince  Talleyrand,  and  Marshal  the  Duke  of 
Dalmatia,  on  behalf  of  H.  M.  the  King  of  France,  honoured  the 
banquet  and  the  marriage  ceremony.  Lord  and  Lady  Crabs 
intend  passing  a  few  weeks  at  Saint  Cloud." 

The  above  dockyments,  along  with  my  own  triffling 
billy,  of  which  I  have  also  givn  a  copy,  greated  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Deuceace  on  their  arrivle  from  Fontingblo. 
Not  being  presnt,  I  can't  say  what  Deuceace  said,  but  I  can 
fancy  how  he  looM,  and  how  poor  Mrs.  Deuceace  look't. 
They  weren't  much  inclined  to  rest  after  the  fiteeg  of 
the  junny,  for,  in  ^  an  hour  after  their  arrival  at  Paris, 
the  bosses  were  put  to  the  carridge  agen,  and  down 
they  came  thundering  to  our  country-house,  at  St. 
Cloud  (pronounst  by  those  absud  Frenchmin  Sing  Kloo), 


MR.    DEUCE ACE.  167 


to  inten*up  our  chaste  loves,  and  delislis  marridge  injy- 
ments. 

My  lord  was  sittn  in  a  crimson  satan  dress,  lolling 
on  a  sofa  at  an  open  windy,  smoaking  seagars,  as  uslile ; 
her  ladyship,  who,  to  du  him  justice,  didn  mind  the 
smell,  occupied  another  end  of  the  room,  and  was  work- 
ing, in  wusted,  a  pare  of  slippers,  or  an  umbrellore  case, 
or  a  coal  skittle,  or  some  such  nonsints.  You  would 
have  thought  to  have  scan  'em  that  they  had  been  mar- 
ried a  sentry,  at  least.  Well,  I  bust  in  upon  this  con- 
jugal to^ortotor,  and  said,  very  much  alarmed,  "My 
lord,  here's  your  son  and  daughter-in-law." 

"  Well,"  says  my  lord,  quite  calm,  "  and  what 
then  ?" 

"  Mr.  Deuceace !"  says  my  lady,  starting  up,  and 
looking  fritened. 

"  Yes,  my  love,  my  son  ;  but  you  need  not  be  al- 
armed. Pray,  Charles,  say  that  Lady  Crabs  and  I  will 
be  very  happy  to  see  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Deuceace  ;  and  that 
they  must  excuse  us  receiving  them  enfamille.  Sit  still, 
my  blessing — take  things  coolly.  Have  you  got  the 
box  with  the  papers  ?" 

My  lady  pointed  to  a  gTeat  green  box — the  same 
from  which  she  had  taken  the  papers,  when  Deuceace 
fust  saw  them, — and  handed  over  to  my  lord  a  fine 
gold  key.  I  went  out,  met  Deuceace  and  his  wife  on  the 
stepps,  gave  my  messinge,  and  bowed  them  palitely  in. 

My  lord  didn't  rise,  bnt  smoaked  away  as  usual 
(praps  a  little  quicker,  but  I  can't  say)  ;  my  lady  sate 
upright,  looking  handsum  and  strong.  Deuceace  walked 
in,  his  left  arm  tied  to  his  breast,  his  wife  and  hat  on 
the  other.     He  looked  very  pale  and  frightened  ;  his 


168  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

wife,  poar  thing  !  had  her  head  berried  in  her  handker- 
chief, and  sobd  fit  to  break  her  heart. 

Miss  Edcksy,  who  was  in  the  room  (but  I  didn  men- 
tion her,  she  was  less  than  nothink  in  our  house),  went 
up  to  Mrs.  Deuceace  at  onst,  and  held  out  her  arms — 
she  had  a  heart,  that  old  Kicksey,  and  I  respect  her  for. 
■  it.  The  poor  hunchback  flung  herself  into  miss's 
arms,  with  a  kind  of  whooping  screech,  and  kep  there 
for  some  time,  sobbing  in  quite  a  historical  manner.  I 
saw  there  was  going  to  be  a  sean,  and  so,  in  cors,  left 
the  door  ajar. 

"  Welcome  to  Saint  Cloud,  Algy,  my  boy  !"  says  my 
lord,  in  a  loud,  hearty  voice.  "  You  thought  you  would 
give  us  the  slip,  eh,  you  rogue  ?  But  we  knew  it,  my 
dear  fellow  ;  we  knew  the  whole  affair — did  we  not,  my 
soul  ?  And,  you  see,  kept  our  secret  better  than  you 
did  yours." 

"  I  must  confess,  sir,"  says  Deuceace,  bowing,  "  that 
I  had  no  idea  of  the  happiness  which  awaited  me,  in 
the  shape  of  a  mother-in-law." 

"  No,  you  dog ;  no,  no,"  says  my  lord,  giggling ; 
"  old  birds,  you  know,  not  to  be  caught  with  chaff,  like 
young  ones.  But,  here  we  are,  all  spliced  and  happy, 
at  last.  Sit  down,  Algernon ;  let  us  smoke  a  segar, 
and  talk  over  the  perils  and  adventures  of  the  last  month. 
My  love,"  Bays  my  lord,  turning  to  his  lady,  "  you  have 
no  malice  against  poor  Algernon,  I  trust  ?  Pray  shake 
his  handP     (A  grin.) 

But  my  lady  rose,  and  said,  "  I  have  told  Mr. 
Deuceace,  that  I  never  wished  to  see  him,  or  speak  to 
hun,  more.  I  see  no  reason,  now,  to  change  my  opin- 
ion." And,  herewith,  she  sailed  out  of  the  room,  by  the 


MR.  DEUCEACE.  169 


door  through  which  Kicksey  had  carried  poor  IMrs. 
Deuceace. 

"  Well,  well,"  says  my  lord,  as  Lady  Crabs  swept 
by,  "  I  was  in  hopes  she  had  forgiven  you ;  but  I  know 
the  whole  story,  aud  I  must  confess,  you  used  her  cruel- 
ly ill.  Two  strings  to  your  bow  ! — that  was  your  game, 
was  it,  you  rogue  ?" 

"  Do  you  mean,  my  lord,  that  you  know  all  that 
past  between  me  and  Lady  Grif — ^Lady  Ciabs,  before 
our  quarrel  ?" 

"  Peifectly — you  made  love  to  her,  and  she  was  al- 
most'in  love  with  you  ;  you  jilted  her  for  money,  she 
got  a  man  to  shoot  your  hand  off  in  revenge ;  no  more 
dice-boxes,  now,  Deuceace ;  no  more  sauter  la  coupe. 
I  can't  think  how  the  deuce  you  will  manage  to  live 
without  them." 

"  Your  lordship  is  very  kind,  but  I  have  given  up 
play  altogether,"  says  Deuceace,  looking  mighty  black 
and  uneasy. 

"  Oh,  indeed !  Benedick  has  turned  a  moral  man, 
has  he  1  This  is  better  and  better.  Are  you  thinking 
of  going  into  the  chm-ch,  Deuceace  ?" 

"My  lord,  may  I  ask  you  to  be  a  little  more  seri- 
ous?" 

"  Serious  !  a  quoi  hon  ?  I  am  serious — serious  in  my 
surprise  that,  when  you  might  have  had  either  of  these 
women,  you  should  have  preferred  that  hideous  wife  of 
yom-s." 

"  May  I  ask  you,  in  turn,  how  you  came  to  be  so  Uttie 
squeamish  about  a  wife,  as  to  choose  a  woman  who  had 
just  been  making  love  to  your  own  son  ?"  says  Deu- 
ceace, gi'owning  fierce. 


ITO  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

"  How  can  you  ask  such  a  question  ?  I  owe  forty 
thousand  pounds — there  is  an  execution  at  Size's  Hall — 
every  acre  I  have  is  in  the  hands  of  my  creditors ;  and 
that's  why  I  mariied  her.  Do  you  think  there  was  any 
love  ?  Lady  Crabs  is  a  dev'lish  fine  woman,  but  she's 
not  a  fool — she  married  me  for  my  coronet,  and  I  mar- 
ried her  for  her  money." 

"  Well,  my  lord,  you  need  not  ask  me,  I  think,  why 
I  married  the  daughter-in-law." 

"  Yes,  but  I  do,  my  dear  boy.  How  the  deuce  are 
you  to  live  ?  Dawkins's  five  thousand  pounds  won't 
last  for  ever ;  and  afterwards  ?" 

"  You  don't  mean,  my  lord, — you  don't — I  mean, 

you  can't D —  !"  says  he,  starting  up,  and  losing  all 

patience,  "  you  don't  dare  to  say  that  Miss  Griffin  had 
not  a  fortune  of  ten  thousand  a-year  ?" 

"  My  lord  was  rolling  up,  and  wetting  betwigst  his 
lips,  another  segar ;  he  lookt  up,  after  he  had  lighted 
it,  and  said,  quietly, 

"  Certainly,  Miss  Griffin  had  a  fortune  of  ten  thou- 
sand a-year." 

"  Well,  sir,  and  has  she  not  got  it  now  ?  Has  she 
spent  it  in  a  week  ?" 

"  She  has  not  got  a  sixpence  now  :  she  married  with- 
out her  mothe7'''s  consent  .^" 

Deuceace  sunk  down  in  a  chair ;  and  I  never  see 
such  a  dreadful  picture  of  despair  as  there  was  in  the 
face  of  that  retchid  man ! — he  writhed,  and  nasht  his 
teeth,  he  tore  open  his  coat,  and  wriggled  madly  the 
stump  of  his  left  hand,  until,  fairly  beat,  he  threw  it 
over  his  livid  pale  face,  and,  sinking  backwards,  fairly 
wept  alowd. 


MR.    DEUCE  ACE.  iVl 


Ball !  it's  a  dreddfle  thino-  to  hear  a  man  crvinor ! 
his  pashn  torn  up  from  the  very  roots  of  his  heart,  as  it 
must  be  before  it  can  git  such  a  vent.     My  lord,  mean 
while,  rolled  his  segar,  lighted  it,  and  went  on. 

"  My  dear  boy,  the  girl  has  not  a  shilling.  I  wish- 
ed to  have  left  you  alone  in  peace,  with  your  four  thou- 
sand pounds  ;  you  might  have  lived  decently  upon  it  in 
Germany,  where  money  is  at  5  per  cent.,  where  your 
duns  would  not  find  you,  and  a  couple  of  hundred  a- 
year  would  have  kept  you  and  your  wife  in  comfort. 
But,  vou  see.  Lady  Crabs  would  not  listen  to  it.  You 
had  injured  her,  and,  after  she  had  tried  to  loll  you,  and 
failed,  she  determined  to  ruin  you,  and  succeeded.  I 
must  own  to  you  that  I  directed  the  an-esting  business, 
and  put  her  up  to  bupng  your  protested  bills ;  she  got 
them  for  a  trifle,  and  as  you  have  paid  them,  has  made 
a  good  two  thousand  pounds  by  her  bargain.  It  was  a 
painful  thing,  to  be  sure,  for  a  father  to  get  his  son  ar- 
rested ;  but  que  voulez-vous  !  I  did  not  appear  in  the 
transaction ;  she  would  have  you  ruined ;  audit  was  ab- 
solutely necessary  -that  you  should  marry  before  I  could, 
so  I  pleaded  yom*  cause  with  Miss  Grifiin,  and  made 
you  the  happy  man  you  are.  You  rogue,  you  rogue ! 
you  thought  to  match  your  old  father,  did  you  ?  But, 
never  mind ;  lunch  will  be  ready  soon.  In  the  mean- 
time, have  a  segar,  and  drink  a  glass  of  Sauterne." 

Deuceace,  who  had  been  listening  to  this  speech, 
sprang  up  wildly. 

"I'll  not  believe  it,"  he  said  ;  "it's  a  he,  an  infernal 
lie  !  forged  by  you,  you  hoary  villain,  and  by  the  mur- 
deress and  strumpet  you  have  married.  I'll  not  beheve 
it ;  shoAv  me  the  will.     Matilda  !  Matilda!"  shouted  he^ 


172  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

screaming   hoarsely,   and  flinging   open  the  door   by 
which  she  had  gone  out. 

"Keep  your  temper,  my  boy.  You  are  vexed,  and 
I  feel  for  you  ;  but  don't  use  such  bad  language  :  it  is 
quite  needless,  believe  me." 

"  Matilda !"  shouted  out  Deuceace  again  ;  and  the 
poor  crooked  thing  came  trembling  in,  followed  by  Miss 
Ejcksey. 

"Is  this  true,  woman?"  says  he  clutching  hold  of 
her  hand. 

"  "What,  dear  Algernon  ?"  says  she. 

"  What  ?"  screams  out  Deuceace, — "  what  ?  Why 
that  you  are  a  beggar,  for  marrying  without  your 
mother's  consent — that  you  basely  lied  to  me,  in  order 
to  bring  about  this  match — that  you  are  a  swindler,  in 
conspiracy  with  that  old  fiend  yonder,  and  the  she-devil, 
his  wife  ?" 

"  It  is  true,"  sobbed  the  poor  woman,  "  that  I  have 

nothing,  but " 

"Nothing  but  what?     Why  don't  you  speak,  you. 
di'i veiling  fool?" 

"  I  have  nothing! — but  you,  dearest  have  two  thous- 
and a-year.  Is  that  not  enough  for  us  ?  You  love  me 
for  myself,  don't  you,  Algernon  ?  You  have  told  me 
so  a  thousand  times — say  so  again,  dear  husband ;  and 
do  not,  do  not  be  so  unkind."  And  here  she  sank  on 
her  knees,  and  clung  to  him,  and  tried  to  catch  his 
hand,  and  kiss  it. 

"  How  much  did  you  say  ?"  says  my  lord. 

"Two  thousand  a-year,  sir;  he  has  told  us  so  a 
thousand  times." 

"  Two  thousand!  Two  thou — ho,  ho,  ho! — haw! 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  1*73 


haw  !  haw  !"  roars  mj  lord.  "  That  is,  I  vow,  the  best 
thing  I  ever  heard  in  my  hfe.  My  dear  creature,  he 
has  not  a  shilHng — not  a  single  maravedi,  by  all  the 
gods  and  goddesses."  And  this  exlnt  noblemin  began 
laffin  louder  than  ever ;  a  very  kind  and  feeling  gerhnn 
he  was,  as  all  must  confess. 

There  was  a  paws  :  and  Mrs.  Deuceace  didn  begin 
cussing  and  swearing  at  her  husband  as  he  had  done 
at  her :  she  only  said,  "  0  Algernon !  is  this  true '?" 
and  got  up,  and  went  to  a  chair,  and  wep  in  quiet. 

My  lord  opened  the  great  box.  "  If  you  or  your 
lawyers  would  like  to  examine  Sir  George's  will,  it  is 
quite  at  your  service ;  you  will  see  here  the  proviso 
which  I  mentioned,  that  gives  the  entire  fortune  to  Lady 
Griffin — Lady  Crabs  that  is  :  and  here,  my  dear  boy, 
you  see  the  danger  of  hasty  conclusions.  Her  ladyship 
only  showed  you  the  first  page  of  the  will,  of  course, 
she  wanted  to  try  you.  You  thought  you  made  a  great 
stroke  in  at  once  proposing  to  Miss  Griffin — do  not 
mind  it,  my  love,  he  really  loves  you  now  very  sincere- 
ly I — when,  in  fact,  you  would  have  done  much  better 
to  have  read  the  rest  of  the  will.  You  were  com- 
pletely bitten,  my  boy — humbugged,  bamboozled — 
ay,  and  by  your  old  father,  you  dog.  I  told  you  I 
would,  you  know,  when  you  refused  to  lend  me  a  por- 
tion of  your  Dawkins  money.  I  told  you  I  would  ;  and 
I  did.  I  had  you  the  very  next  day.  Let  this  be  a 
lesson  to  you,  Percy  my  boy;  don't  try  your  luck 
again  against  such  old  hands ;  look  deuced  well  before 
you  leap  ;  audi  alteram  jiartem,  my  lad,  which  means, 
read  both  sides  of  the  will.  I  think  lunch  Ls  ready ; 
but  I  see  you  don't  smoke.     Shall  we  go  in  ?" 


174  THE    YELLOWFLUSII    PAPERS. 

"  Stop  my  lord,"  says  Mr.  Deuceace,  very  humble  ; 
"  I  shall  not  share  yom-  hospitality — but — but  you  know 
my  condition  ;  I  am  penniless — you  know  the  manner 
in  which  my  wife  has  been  brought  up " 

'•The  Honourable  Mrs.  Deuceace,  sir,  shall  always 
find  a  home  here,  as  if  nothing  had  occurred  to  interrupt 
the  friendship  between  her  dear  mother  and  herself." 

"  And  for  me,  sir,"  says  Deuceace,  speaking  faint, 
and  very  slow,  "  I  hope — I  trust — I  think,  my  lord, 
you  will  not  forget  me  ?" 

"  Forget  you,  sir ;  certainly  not." 

"  And  that  you  will  make  some  provision  ?" 

"Algernon  Deuceace,"  says  my  lord,  getting  up 
from  the  sophy,  and  looking  at  him  with  sich  a  jolly 
malignity,  as  /never  see,  "I  declare,  before  Heaven, 
that  I  will  not  give  you  a  penny  !" 

Hereupon,  my  lord  held  out  his  hand  to  Mrs.  Deuce- 
ace, and  said,  "  My  dear  will  you  join  your  mother 
and  me  ?  We  shall  always,  as  I  said,  have  a  home  for 
you." 

"  My  lord,"  said  the  poar  thing,  dropping  a  curtsy, 
"my  iome  is  wHh  him  ,'"  • 


* 


.A  bout  three  months  after,  when  the  season  was  be- 
ginning at  Paris,  and  the  autumn  leafs  was  on  the 
ground,  my  lord,  my  lady,  me  and  Mortimer,  were  taking 
a  stroal  in  the  Boddy  Balong,  the  carridge  dri\dng  on 
slowly  a  liO'^d,  and  us  as  happy  as  possbill,  admiring 
the  pleas  A^  woods,  and  the  goldn  sunset. 


MR.    DEUCEACE.  175 


My  lord  was  expaysliating  to  my  lady  upon  tte  ex- 
quizit  beauty  of  the  sean,  and  pouring  forth  a  host  of 
butifle  and  virtuous  sentament  sootable  to  the  hour. 
It  was  dahtefle  to  hear  him.  "  Ah !"  said  he,  "  black 
must  be  the  heart,  my  love,  which  does  not  feel  the  in- 
fluence of  a  scene  hke  this  ;  gathering  as  it  were,  from 
those  sunlit  skies,  a  portion  of  their  celestial  gold,  and 
gaining  somewhat  of  heaven  with  each  pure  draught  of 
this  delicious  air!" 

Lady  Crabs  did  not  speak,  but  prest  his  arm  and 
looked  upwards.  Mortimer  and  I,  too,  felt  some  of  the 
infliwents  of  the  sean,  and  lent  on  our  goold  sticks  in 
silence.  The  carriage  drew  up  close  to  us,  and  my  lord 
and  my  lady  sauntered  slowly  tords  it. 

Jest  at  the  place  was  a  bench,  and  on  the  bench 
sate  a  poorly  drest  woman,  and  by  her,  leaning  against 
a  tree,  was  a  man  whom  I  thought  I'd  sean  befor.  He 
was  drest  in  a  shabby  blew  coat,  with  white  seems  and 
copper  buttons  ;  a  torn  hat  was  on  his  head,  and  great 
quantaties  of  matted  hair  and  whiskers  disfiggared 
his  countnints.  He  was  not  shaved,  and  as  pale  as 
stone. 

My  lord  and  lady  didn  tak  the  slightest  notice  of 
him,  but  past  on  to  the  carridge.  Me  and  Mortimer 
iickwdse  took  our  places.  As  we  past,  the  man  had  got 
a  grip  of  the  woman's  shoulder,  who  was  holding  down 
her  head  sobbing  bitterly. 

No  sooner  were  my  lord  and  lady  seated,  than  they 
both,  with  igstream  dellixy  and  good  natur,  bust  into  a 
ror  of  lafter,  peal  upon  peal,  whooping  and  screaching, 
enouo;h  to  frio-hten  the  evenino-  silents. 

Deuceace  turned  round.     I  see  his  face  now — the 


1*16  THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 

face  of  a  dewle  of  hell !  Fust,  lie  lookt  towards  the  car 
ridge,  and  pinted  to  it  with  his  maimed  ai*m ;  then  he 
raised  the  other,  and  struck  the  woman  by  his  side.   She 
fell,  screaming. 

Poor  thing !  Poor  thing ! 


MR.    YELLOWPLUSH's    AJEW.  l^*J 


MR.  YELLOWPLUSH'S  AJEW. 

The  end  of  Mr.  Deuceace's  history  is  going  to  be  the 
end  of  my  corrispondince.  I  wish  the  pubhc  was  as 
sory  to  part  with  me  as  I  am  with  the  pubhc ;  becaws 
I  fansy  reely  that  we've  become  frends,  and  feal  for  my 
part  a  becoming  greaf  at  saying  ajew. 

It's  imposbill  for  me  to  continyow,  however,  a  writ- 
in,  as  I  have  done — violetting  the  rules  of  authography, 
and  tramphng  upon  the  fust  princepills  of  English 
grammar.  When  I  began,  I  knew  no  better :  when  I'd 
carrid  on  these  papers  a  little  further,  and  grew  ac- 
custmd  to  "ft-ritin,  I  began  to  smel  out  somethink  quear 
in  my  style.  Within  the  last  sex  weaks  I  have  been 
learning  to  spell :  and  when  all  the  world  was  rejoicing 
at  the  festivvaties  of  our  youthful  quean — when  all  i's 
were  fixt  upon  her  long  sweet  of  ambasdors  and  prin- 
ces, following  the  splendid  camdge  of  Marshle  the 
Duke  of  Damlatiar,  and  blinking  at  the  pearls  and  di- 
mince  of  Prince  Oystereasy — Yellowplush  was  in  his 
loanly  pantry — his  eyes  were  fixt  upon  the  spelling- 
book — his  heart  was  bent  upon  mastring  the  diffickleties 
of  the  littery  professhn.    I  have  been,  in  fact,  convertid. 

You  shall  here  how.  Ours,  you  know,  is  a  Wig 
house ;  and  ever  sins  his  third  son  has  got  a  place  in 
the  Treasury,  his  secknd  a  captingsy  in  the  Guards,  his 
8* 


178  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

fust,  the  secretary  of  embasy  at  Pekin,  with  a  prospick  of 
being  appinted  ambasdor  at  Loo  Choo — ever  sins  ma^ 
ter's  sons  have  reseaved  these  attentions,  and  master 
himself  has  had  the  promis  of  a  pearitch,  he  has  been 
the  most  reglar,  consistnt,  honrabble  Libbaral,  in  or  out 
of  the  House  of  Commins. 

Well,  being  a  Whig,  it's  the  fashn,  as  you  know,  to 
reseave  littery  pipple  ;  and  accordingly,  at  dinner,  tothef 
day,  whose  name  do  you  think  I  had  to  hollar  out  on 
the  fust  landing-place  about  a  wick  ago  ?  After  several 
dukes  and  markises  had  been  enounced,  a  very  gentell 
fly  drives  up  to  our  doar,  and  out  steps  two  gentlemen. 
One  was  pail,  and  wor  spektickles,  a  wig,  and  a  white 
neckcloth.  The  other  was  slim,  with  a  hook  nose,  a 
pail  fase,  a  small  waist,  a  pare  of  falling  shoulders,  a 
tight  coat,  and  a  catarack  of  black  satting  tumbling  out 
of  his  busm,  and  falling  into  a  gilt  velvet  weskit.  The 
little  genlmn  settled  his  wigg,  and  pulled  out  his  rib- 
bins  ;  the  younger  one  fluffed  the  dust  of  his  shoos, 
looked  at  his  wiskers  in  a  little  pockit-glas,  settled  his 
crevatt ;  and  they  both  mounted  up  stairs. 

"  What  name,  su'  ?"  says  I,  to  the  old  genlmn. 

"  Name ! — a !  now,  you  thief  o'  the  wurrrld,"  says 
he,  "  do  you  pretind  nat  to  know  me  ?  Say  it's  the 
Cabinet  Cyclopa — no,  I  mane  the  Litherary  Chran — 
psha  ! — bluthanowns  ! — say  it's  Docthor  Dioclesian 
Larner — I  think  he'll  know  me  now — ay,  Nid  ?"  But 
the  genlmn  called  Nid  was  at  the  botm  of  the  stare, 
and  pretended  to  be  very  busy  with  his  shoo-string.  So 
the  little  genlmn  went  up  stares  alone. 

"  Doctor  Diolesius  Larner  !"  says  L 

"Doctor   Athanasius    Lardner  !"    says   <>reville 


179 

Fitz-Roj,    our  secknd  footman,  on  the  fiist   landing- 
place. 

"  BortOr  J-mUiinti  ILo^Ola  l"  says  the  groom 
of  the    eliambers,  who  pretends  to  be  a  schollar ;  and 
in  the  httle  genlmn  went.     TVTien  safely  housed,  the 
other  chap  came ;    and  when  I  asked  him  his  name, 
said,  in  a  thick,  gobbhng  kind  of  voice  : 
"Sawedwadofeoro^eearllittnbiilwio;." 
"  Sir  what  ?"  says  I,  quite  agast  at  the  name. 
"  Sawedwad — no,  I  mean  Mistawedwad  Lyttn  Bul- 
wig." 

My  neas  trembled  under  me,  my  i's  fild  with  tiers, 
my  voice  shook,  as  I  past  up  the  venrabble  name  to  the 
other  footman,  and  saw  this  fust  of  English  writers  go 
up  to  the  drawing-room  I 

It's  needless  to  mention  the  names  of  the  rest  of  the 
compny,  or  to  dixcribe  the  suckmstansies  of  the  dinner. 
Suffiz  to  say  that  the  two  Httery  gelmn  behaved  very 
well,  and  seamed  to  have  good  appytights  ;  igspecially 
the  little  Irishman  in  the  Whig,  who  et,  drunk,  and 
talked  as  much  as  |-  a  duzn.  He  told  how  he'd  been 
presented  at  cort  by  his  friend,  Mr.  Bulwig,  and  how 
the  quean  had  received  'em  both  with  a  dignaty  imdig- 
scribable,  and  how  her  blessid  majisty  asked  what  was 
the  bony  fidy  sale  of  the  Cabinit  Cyclopaedy,  and  how  he 
(Doctor  Larner)  told  her  that,  on  his  honner,  it  was  un- 
der ten  thowsnd. 

You  may  gess  that  the  Doctor,  when  he  made  this 
speach,  was  pretty  far  gone.  The  fact  is,  that  whether 
it  was  the  coronation,  or  the  goodness  of  the  wine 
(cappitle  it  is  in  om*  house,  /  can  tell  you),  or  the  natral 
propensaties  of  the  gests  assembled,  which   made  them 


180  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

SO  igspecially  jolly,  I  don't  know,  but  they  liad  kep  up  ^ 
tlie  meating  pretty  late,  and  our  poar  butler  was  quite 
tired  with  the  perpechual  baskits  of  clarrit  which  he'd 
been  called  upon  to  bring  up.  So  that  about  11  o'clock, 
if  I  were  to  say  they  were  merry,  I  should  use  a  mild 
term ;  if  I  wer  to  say  they  were  intawsicatea,  I  should 
use  an  igspresshn  more  near  to  the  truth,  but  less  ris- 
peckful  in  one  of  my  situashn. 

The  cumpany  reseaved  this  annountsmint  with  mute 

extonishment. 

"Pray,  Doctor  Larnder,"  says  a  spiteful  genlmn, 
willing  to  keep  up  the  littery  conversation,"  what  is  the 
Cabinet  Cyclopaedia  ?" 

"  It's  the  littherary  wontherrof  the  wurrld,"  says  he ; 
"  and  sure  your  lordship  must  have  seen  it ;  the  latther 
numbers  ispicially — cheap  as  durrt,  bound  in  gleezed 
cahco,  six  shillings  a  vollum.  The  illusthrious  neems 
of  Walther  Scott,  Thomas  Moore,  Docther  Southey,  Sir 
James  Mackintosh,  Docther  Donovan,  and  meself,  are 
to  be  found  in  the  list  of  conthributoi-s.  It's  the  Phay- 
nix  of  Cyclopajies — a  litherary  Bacon." 

"  A  what  ?"  says  the  genlmn  nex  to  him. 

"  A  Bacon,  shining  in  the  darkness  of  om*  age ;  fild 
wid  the  pure  end  lambent  flame  of  science,  burning  with 
the  gorrgeous  scintillations  of  divine  litherature — a 
monumintum,  in  fact,  are  perinnius,  bound  in  pink 
cahco,  six  shillings  a  vollum." 

"  This  wigmawole,"  said  Mr.  Bulwig  (who  seemed 
rather  disgusted  that  his  frend  should  take  up  so  much 
of  the  convassation),  "  this  wigmawole  is  all  vewy  well ; 
but  it's  cuwious  that  you  don't  wemember,  in  chaw- 
actewising  the  litewawy  mewits  of  the  vawious  maga- 


MR.    TELLOWPLUSh's    A  JEW.  181 

^j^es,  cwonicles,  weviews,  and  enclycopaedias,  the  ex- 
istence of  a  cwitical  weview  and  litewawy  chwonicle; 
which,  though  the  sewa  of  its  appeawance  is  dated  onlj' 
at  a  vewy  few  months  pwevious  to  the  pwesent  pewiod 
is,  nevertheless,  so  wemarkable  for  its  intwinsic  me  wits 
as  to  be  wead,  not  in  the  metwopohs  alone,  but  in  the 
countwy — not  in  Fwance  merely,  but  in  the  west  of 
Euwope — whewever  our  pure  Wenglish  is  spoken,  it 
stwetches  its  peaceful  sceptre — pewused  in  Amewica, 
fwom  ISTew  York  to  Xiagawa — wepwinted  in  Canada, 
fwom  Montweal  to  Towonto — and,  as  I  am  gwatified  to 
hear  fwom  my  fwend  the  governor  of  Cape  Coast 
Castle,  wegularly  weceived  in  Afwica,  and  twanslated 
into  the  Mandingo  language  by  the  missionawies  and  the 
bushwangers.  I  need  not  say,  gentlemen — sir — that  is, 
Mr.  Speaker — I  mean,  Sir  John — that  I  allude  to  the 
Litewawy  Chwonicle,  of  which  I  have  the  honour  to  be 
pwincipal  contwibutor." 

"  Very  true,  my  dear  Mr.  Bullwig,"  says  my  master  ; 
"  you  and  I  being  Whigs,  must  of  course,  stand  by  our 
own  friends ;  and  I  will  agree,  without  a  moment's 
hesitation,  that  the  Literary  what-d'ye-callem  is  the 
piince  of  periodicals." 

The  Pwince  of  pewiodicals  ?"  says  Bullwig ;  "  my 
dear  Sir  John,  it's  the  empewow  of  the  pwess." 

"  Soit^ — let  it  be  the  emperor  of  the  press,  as  you 
poetically  call  it :  but,  between  ourselves,  confess  it, — 
Do  not  the  Tory  writers  beat  your  Whigs  hollow  ?  You 
talk  about  magazines.     Look  at " 

"  Look  at  hwat  ?"  shouts  out  Larder.  "  There's 
none.  Sir  Jan,  compared  to  ourrs.'' 

"  Pardon  me,  I  think  that " 


182  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

"  It  is  Bentley's  Mislany  you  mane  ?"  says  Ignatius, 
as  sharp  as  a  niddle. 

"  Why  no  ;  but " 

"  0  thin,  it's  Co'burn,  sure  ;  and  that  divvle  Thayo- 
dor — a  pretty  paper,  sir,  but  hght — thrashy,  milk-and- 
wathery — not  sthrong,  hke  the  Litherary  Chran — good 
hick  to  it." 

"  Why,  Doctor  Lander,  I  was  going  to  tell  a  once 
the  name  of  the  periodical, — it  is  Eraser's  Magazine." 

"  Freser  !"  says  the  Doctor.  "  0  thunder  and 
turf!" 

"  Fwaser  !"  says  Bullwig.  "  0 — ah — hum — haw 
— yes — no — why, — that  is  weally — no,  weally,  upon 
my  weputation,  I  never  before  heard  the  name  of  the 
pewiodical.     By  the  by,  Sir  John,  what  wemarkable 

good  clawet  this  is  ;  is  it  Lawose  or  Laff V 

•Laff,  indeed  !  he  cooden  git  beyond  laff ;  and  I'm 
blest  if  I  could  kip  it  neither, — for  hearing  him  pretend 
ignurnts,  and  being  behind  the  skreend,  settlin  sura- 
think  for  the  genlmn,  I  bust  into  such  a  raw  of  laffing 
as  never  was  igseeded. 

"  Hullo !"  says  Bullwig,  turning  red.  "  Have  I 
said  any  thing  impwobable,  aw  widiculous  ?  for,  weally, 
I  never  befaw  wecoUect  to  have  heard  in  society  such  a 
twemendous  peal  of  cachinnation, — that  which  the 
twagic  bard  who  fought  at  Mawathon  has  called  an 
anewithmon  gelasmay 

"  Why,  be  the  holy  piper,"  says  Larder,  "  I  think 
you  are  dthrawing  a  little  on  your  imagination.  Not 
read  Fraser !  Don't  believe  him,  my  lord  duke  ;  he 
reads  every  word  of  it,  the  rogue !  The  boys  about 
that  magazine  baste  him  as  if  he  was  a  sack  of  oatmale. 


MR.    YELLO^yPLUSH  S    A  JEW.  183 

My  reason  for  crpng  out,  Sir  Jan,  was  because  you 
mintioned  Fraser  at  al].  Bull  wig  has  every  syllable  of 
it  be  heart — from  the  pallitix  down  to  the  '  Yellow- 
plush  Correspondence.' " 

"  Ha,  ha  I"  says  Bull  wig,  affecting  to  laff  (you  may 
be  sure  my  years  prickt  up  when  I  heard  the  name  of 
the  '  Yellowplush  Correspondence').  "  Ha,  ha  !  why, 
to  tell  twuth,  I  have  wead  the  cowespondence  to  which 
you  allude ;  it's  a  gweat  favowite  at  court.  I  was  talk- 
ing with  Sp\Ndng  Wice  and  John  Wussell  about  it  the 
other  day." 

"  Well,  and  what  do  you  think  of  it  ?"  says  Sir 
John,  looking  mity  wagg-ish, — for  he  knew  it  was  me 
who  roat  it. 

"Why,  weally  and  twuly,  there's  considewable 
cleverness  about  the  cweature  ;  but  it's  low,  disgustingly 
low  :  it  violates  pwobabihty,  and  the  orthogwaphy  is  so 
carefully  inaccuwate,  that  it  requires  a  positive  study  to 
compwehend  it." 

"  Yes,  faith,"  says  Larner,  the  arthagraphy  is  de- 
tistible;  it's  as  bad  for  a  man  to  write  bad  spillin  as  it 
is  for  'em  to  speak  wid  a  brrouge.  Iducation  furst, 
and  ganius  afterwards.  Your  health,  my  lord,  and 
good  luck  to  you." 

"  Y^aw  wemark,"  says  BuUwig,  "  is  vewy  appwo- 
pwiate.  You  will  wecollect,  Sir  John,  in  Hewodotus 
(as  for  you,  doctor,  you  know  more  about  Iwish  than 
about  Gweek), — you  will  recollect,  Avithout  doubt,  a 
stowy  na^-wated  by  that  cwedulous  though  fascinating 
chwonicler,  of  a  certain  kind  of  sheep  which  is  known 
only  in  a  certain  distwict  of  Awabia,  and  of  which  the 
tail    is    so   enormous,  that  it    either  d waggles  on    the 


THE    YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS. 


gwound,  or  is  bound  up  by  the  sbepberds  of  the  country 
into  a  small  wheelbawwow,  or  cart,  which  makes  th-e 
chwonicler  sneewingly  wemark,  that  thus  '  the  sheep  of 
Awabia  have  their  own  cha wiots.'  I  have  often  thought, 
sir  (this  clawet  is  weally  nectaweous) — I  have  often,  I 
say,  thought  that  the  wace  of  man  may  be  compawed 
to  these  Awabian  sheep — genius  is  our  tail,  education 
our  wheelbawwow.  Without  art  and  education  to 
pwop  it,  this  genius  dwops  on  the  gwound,  and  is  pol- 
luted by  the  mud,  or  injured  by  the  wocks  upon  the 
way :  with  the  wheelbawwow  it  is  stwengthened,  in- 
cweased,  and  supported — a  pwide  to  the  owner,  a  bless- 
ing to  mankind." 

"  A  very  appropriate  simile,"  says  Sir  John  ;  "  and 
I  am  afraid  that  the  genius  of  our  friend  Yellowplush 
has  need  of  some  such  support." 

"  Apro2oos,^''  said  Bullwig  ;  "  who  is  Yellowplush  ?  1 
was  given  to  imderstand  that  the  name  w^as  only  a 
fictitious  one,  and  that  the  papers  were  written  by  the 
author  of  the  Diary  of  a  Physician  ;  if  so,  the  man 
has  wonderfully  improved  in  style,  and  there  is  some 
hope  of  him." 

"  Bah !"  says  the  Duke  of  Doublejowl ;  "  every 
body  knows  it's  Barnard,  the  celebrated  author  of '  Sam 
Slick.' " 

"  Pardon,  my  dear  duke,"  says  Lord  Bagwig ;  "  it's 
the  authoress  of  High  Life^  Almacks,  and  other  fashion- 
able novels." 

"  Fiddlestick's  end  !"  says  Doctor  Lamer  ;  "  don't 
be  blushing,  and  pretinding  to  ask  questions :  don't  we 
know  you,  Bullwig !  It's  you  yourself,  you  thief  of  the 
world  ;  we  smoked  you  from  the  very  beginning." 


MR.  yellowplush's  ajew.  185 

Bullwig  was  about  indignantly  to  reply,  when  Sir 
John  interrupted  them,  and  said, — "  I  must  correct  you 
all,  gentlemen  ;  Mr.  Yellowplush  is  no  other  than  Mr. 
Yellowplush  :  he  gave  you,  my  dear  Bullwig,  your  last 
glass  of  champagne  at  dinner,  and  is  now  an  inmate  of 
my  house,  and  an  ornament  of  my  kitchen  1" 

"  Gad !"  says  Doublejowl,  "  let's  have  him  up." 

"  Hear,  hear !"  says  Bagwig. 

"  Ah,  now,"  says  Larner,  "  your  grace  is  not  going 
to  call  up  and  talk  to  a  footman,  sure  ?     Is  it  gintale  ?" 

"  To  say  the  least  of  it,"  says  Bullwig,  "  the  pwac- 
tice  is  iwwegular,  and  indecowous  ;  and  I  weally  don't 
see  how  the  interview  can  be  in  any  way  pwofitable." 

But  the  vices  of  the  company  went  against  the  two 
littery  men,  and  every  body  excep  them  was  for  having 
up  poor  me.  The  bell  was  wrung;  butler  came. 
"  Send  up  Charles,"  says  master ;  and  Charles,  who 
was  standing  behind  the  skreand,  was  persnly  abhged 
to  come  in. 

"  Charles,"  says  master,  "  I  have  been  telling  these 
gentlemen  who  is  the  author  of  the  '  Yellowplush  Cor- 
respondence,' in  Fraser's  Magazine.^'' 

"  It's  the  best  magazine  in  Europe,"  says  the  duke. 

"And  no  mistake,"  says  my  lord. 

"  Hwat !"  says  Larner  ;  "  and  where's  the  Litherary 
Chran  V 

I  said  myself  nothink,  but  made  a  bough,  and  blusht 
hke  pickle  cabbitch. 

"  Mr.  Yellowplush,"  says  his  grace,  "  will  you,  in 
the  first  place,  drink  a  glass  of  wine  ?" 

I  boughed  agin. 


186  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

"  And  wlaat  wine  do  you  prefer,  sir  ?  humble  port 
or  imperial  burgundy  ?" 

"  Why,  your  gi-ace,"  says  I,  "  I  know  my  place,  and 
aint  above  kitcbin  wines.  I  will  take  a  glass  of  port, 
and  drink  it  to  tbe  health  of  this  honrabble  compny." 

When  I'd  swigged  off  the  bumper,  which  his  grace 
himself  did  me  the  honour  to  pour  out  for  me,  there 
was  a  sihnts  for  a  minnit ;  when  my  master  said  : 

"  Charles  Yellowplush,  I  have  perused  your  me- 
moirs in  Fraserh  Magazine  with  so  much  curiosity,  and 
have  so  high  an  opinion  of  your  talents  as  a  writer,  that 
I  really  cannot  keep  you  as  a  footman  any  longer,  or 
allow  you  to  discharge  duties  for  which  you  are  now 
quite  unfit.  With  all  my  admiration  for  your  talents, 
Mr.  Yellowplush,  I  still  am  confident  that  many  of  your 
friends  in  the  servants'  hall  will  clean  my  boots  a  great 
deal  better  than  a  gentleman  of  your  genius  can  ever  be 
expected  to  do — it  is  for  this  purpose  that  I  employ 
footmen,  and  not  that  they  may  be  writing  articles  in 
magazines.  But — you  need  not  look  so  red,  my  good 
fellow,  and  had  better  take  another  glass  of  port — I 
don't  wish  to  throw  you  upon  the  wide  world  without 
means  of  a  livelihood,  and  have  made  interest  for  a  little 
place  which  you  will  have  under  government,  and  which 
will  give  you  an  income  of  eighty  pounds  j)er  annum, 
which  you  can  double,  I  presume,  by  your  literary 
labours." 

"  Sir,"  says  I,  clasping  my  hands,  and  busting  into 
tears,  "  do  not — for  Heaven's  sake,  do  not ! — think  of 
any  such  think,  or  drive  me  from  your  suvvice,  because 
I  have  been  fool  enouo-h  to  wiite  in  mao-aseens.  Glans 
bN.t  one  moment  at  your  honor's  plate — every  spoon  is 


MR.  yellowplush's  ajew.  IS"? 

as  bright  as  a  mirror  ;  condysend  to  igsamine  your 
slioes — your  honour  may  see  reflected  in  them  the 
fases  of  every  one  in  the  compny.  /  blacked  them 
shoes,  /  cleaned  that  there  plate.  If  occasionally  I've 
forgot  the  footman  in  the  litterary  man,  and  committed 
to  paper  my  remindicencies  of  fashnabble  life,  it  was 
from  a  sincere  desire  to  do  good,  and  promote  nollitch : 
and  I  appeal  to  your  honour, — I  lay  my  hand  on  my 
busm,  and  in  the  fase  of  this  noble  company  beg  you 
to  say.  When  you  rung  your  bell,  who  came  to  you 
fust  ?  When  you  stopt  out  at  Brooke's  till  morning, 
who  sate  up  for  you  ?  When  you  was  ill,  who  forgot 
the  natral  dignities  of  his  station,  and  answered  the 
two-pair  bell  ?  0,  sir,"  says  I,  "  I  know  what's  what ; 
don't  send  me  away.  I  know  them  littery  chaps,  and, 
bleave  me,  I'd  rather  be  a  footman.  The  work's  not  so 
hard — the  pay  is  better :  the  vittels  incompyrably 
supearor.  I  have  but  to  clean  my  things,  and  run  my 
errints,  and  you  put  clothes  on  my  back,  and  meat  in 
my  mouth.  Sir  !  Mr.  BuUwig  !  an't  I  right  ?  shall  I 
quit  my  station  and  sink — that  is  to  say,  rise — to 
youi'S^ 

Bullwig  was  violently  alfected  ;  a  tear  stood  in  his 
glistening  i.  "  Yellowplush,"  says  he,  seizing  my  hand, 
"  you  are  right.  Quit  not  your  present  occupation  ; 
black  boots,  clean  knives,  wear  plush,  all  yom-  life,  but 
don't  turn  literary  man.  Look  at  me.  I  am  the  first 
novelist  in  Europe.  I  have  ranged  with  eagle  wing 
over  the  wide  regions  of  literature,  and  perched  on 
every  eminence  in  its  turn.  I  have  gazed  with  eagle 
eye  on  the  sun  of  philosophy,  and  fathomed  the  mys- 
terious depths  of  the  human  mind.     All  languages  are 


188  THH     V'i:LLOAVPLLS:l     PAPERS. 

familiar  to  me,  all  tlioiiglits  are  known  to  me,  all  meu 
understood  by  me.  I  have  gathered  wisdom  from  the 
honeyed  hps  of  Plato,  as  we  wandered  in  the  gardens 
of  Acadames — wisdom,  too,  from  the  mouth  of  Job 
Johnson,  as  we  smoked  our  'backy  in  Seven  Dials. 
Such  must  be  the  studies,  and  such  is  the  mission,  in 
this  world,  of  the  Poet-Philosopher.  But  the  know- 
ledge is  only  em^^tiness ;  the  initiation  is  but  misery ; 
the  initiated,  a  man  shunned  and  bann'd  by  his  fellows. 
O,"  said  Bullwig,  clasping  his  hands,  and  throwing  his 
fine  i's  up  to  the  chandelier,  "  the  curse  of  Pwome- 
theus  descends  upon  his  wace.  Wath  and  punishment 
pursue  them  from  genewation  to  genewation  1  Wo  to 
genius,  the  heaven-sealer,  the  fire-stealer !  Wo  and 
thrice  bitter  desolation  1  Earth  is  the  wock  on  which 
Zeus,  wemorseless,  stwetches  his  withing  victim — men, 
the  vultures  that  feed  and  fatten  on  him.  Ai,  Ai !  it  is 
agony  eternal — gw^oaning  and  solitawy  despair !  And 
you,  Yellowplush,  would  penetwate  these  mystewies ; 
you  would  waise  the  awful  veil,  and  stand  in  the  twe- 
mendous  Pwesence.  Beware ;  as  you  value  your 
peace,  beware  !  Withdwaw,  wash  Neophyte !  For 
Heaven's  sake — O,  for  Heaven's  sake ! — "  here  he 
looked  round  with  agony — "  give  me  a  glass  of  bwandy 
and  water,  for  this  clawet  is  beginning  to  disagwee 
with  me." 

Bullwig  having  concluded  this  spitch,  very  much  to 
his  own  sattasfackshn,  looked  round  to  the  compny  for 
aplaws,  and  then  swigged  off  the  glass  of  brandy  and 
water,  giving  a  solium  sigh  as  he  took  the  last  gulph  ; 
and  then  Doctor  Ignatius,  who  longed  for  a  chans,  and, 
in  order  to  shew  his  independence,  began  flatly  contra- 


MR.  yellowplush's  ajew.  189 

dieting  his  friend,  and  addressed  me,  and  the  rest  of  the 
genlmn  present,  in  the  following  manner : — 

"  Hark  ye,"  says  he,  "  my  gossoon,  doant  be  led 
asthray  by  the  nonsince  of  that  divl  of  a  Biillwig. 
He's  jilloiis  of  ye,  my  bhoy  ;  that's  the  rale,  undoubted 
thruth ;  and  it's  only  to  keep  you  out  of  litherary  life 
that  he's  palavering  you  in  this  way :  I'll  tell  ye  what 
— Plush,  ye  blackguard, — my  honorable  frind,  the  mim- 
ber  there,  has  told  me  a  hunder  times  by  the  smallest 
computation  of  his  intinse  admiration  for  your  talents, 
and  the  wontherful  sthir  they  were  making  in  the 
worlld.  He  can't  bear  a  rival.  He's  mad  with  envy, 
hathred,  oncharatableness.  Look  at  him,  Plush,  and 
look  at  me.  My  father  was  not  a  juke  exackly,  nor 
aven  a  markis,  and  see,  nevertheliss,  to  what  a  pitch  I 
am  come.  I  spare  no  ixpinse  ;  I'm  the  iditor  of  a  cople 
of  pariodicals ;  I  dthrive  about  in  me  carridge ;  I  dine  wid 
the  lords  of  the  land ;  and  why — in  the  name  of  the  piper 
that  pleed  before  Mosus,  hwy  ?  Because  I'm  litherary 
man.  Because  I  know  how  to  play  me  cards.  Because 
I'm  Docther  Larner,  in  fact,  and  mimber  of  every  society 
in  and  out  of  Europe.  I  might  have  remained  all  my 
life  in  Thrinity  Colledge,  and  never  made  such  an  in- 
com  as  that  offered  you  by  Sir  Jan ;  but  I  came  to 
London — to  London,  my  boy,  and  now,  see!  Look 
again  at  me  friend,  BuUwig.  He  is  a  gentleman,  to  be 
sure,  and  bad  luck  to  'im,  say  I ;  and  what  has  been 
the  result  of  his  litherary  labour  ?  I'll  tell  you  what, 
and  I'll  tell  this  gintale  society,  by  the  shade  of  Saint 
Patrick,  they're  going  to  make  him  a  barinet." 

"  A  Barnet,  Doctor !"  says  I ;  "  you  don't  mean 
to  say  they're  going  to  make  him  a  barnet  ?" 


190  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 


"As  sure  as  I've  made  meself  a  docthor,"  says  Lamer. 

"  What,  a  baronet,  like  Sir  John  ?" 

"  The  divle  a  bit  else." 

"And  pray  what  for  ?" 

"  What  faw  !"  says  Biillwig.  "  Ask  the  histowy  of 
litewatuwe  what  faw  ?  Ask  Colburn,  ask  Bentley,  ask 
Saunders  and  Otley,  ask  the  gweat  Bwitish  nation, 
what  faw  ?  The  blood  in  my  veins  comes  puwified 
thwough  ten  thousand  years  of  ehivalwous  ancestwy ; 
but  that  is  neither  here  nor  there :  my  political  prin- 
ciples— the  equal  wights  which  I  have  advocated — the 
gweat  cause  of  fweedom  that  I  have  celebwated,  are 
known  to  all.  But  this,  I  confess,  has  nothing  to  do 
with  the  question.  No,  the  question  is  this — on  the 
thwone  of  litewature  I  stand  unwivalled,  pwe-eminent ; 
and  the  Bwitish  government,  honowing  genius  in  me, 
compliments  the  Bwitish  nation  by  lifting  into  the 
bosom  of  the  heweditawy  nobility,  the  most  gifted 
member  of  the  democwacy."  (The  honrabble  genlm 
here  sunk  down  amidst  repeated  chairs.) 

"  Sir  John,"  says  I,  "  and  my  lord  duke,  the  words 
of  my  revi'int  frend,  Ignatius,  and  the  remarks  of  the 
honrabble  genlmn  who.  has  just  sate  down,  have  made 
me  change  the  detummination  which  I  had  the  honor 
of  igspressing  just  now. 

"  I  igsept  the  eighty  pound  a-year ;  knowing  that  I 
shall  have  plenty  of  time  for  pursuing  my  littery  cereer, 
and  hoping  some  day  to  set  on  that  same  bentch  of 
barranites,  which  is  deckarated  by  the  presnts  of  my 
honrabble  friend. 

"  Why  shooden  I  ?  It's  trew  I  aint  done  any  think 
as  yet  to  deserve  such  an  honor  ;  and  it's  very  probable 


MR.    YELl.OV.-pLUSIl's    AJEW.  191 

that  I  never  sliall.  But  what  then  ? — qiiaw  donrj^  as 
oiu*  friends  say.  I'd  much  rayther  have  a  coat  of  arms 
than  a  coat  of  Uviy.  I'd  much  rayther  have  my  bhid- 
red  hand  spralink  in  the  middle  of  a  shield,  than  under- 
neath a  tea-tray.  A  bai-ranit  I  v.ill  be,  and,  in  con- 
squints,  must  cease  to  be  a  footmin. 

"  As  to  my  politticle  princepills,  these,  I  confess, 
aint  settled  :  they  are,  I  know,  nessary  ;  but  they  aint 
T\e.?;?^QiYj  until  asJct  for ;  besides,  I  ■  reglar  read  the  Sat- 
tarist  newspaper,  and  so  ignirince  on  this  pint  would  be 
inig'scusable. 

"But  if  one  man  can  git  to  be  a  doctor,  and 
another  a  barranit,  and  another  a  capting  in  the 
navy,  and  another  a  countess,  and  another  the 
v\ife  of  a  governor  of  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  I  begin 
to  perseave  that  the  littery  trade  aint  such  a  very  bad 
un  ;  igspecially  if  you're  up  to  snough,  and  know  what's 
o'clock.  I'll  learn  to  make  myself  usefle,  in  the  fust 
place  ;  then  I'U  larn  to  spell ;  and,  I  trust,  by  reading 
the  nowles  of  the  honrabble  member,  and  the  scienta- 
fick  treatiseses  of  the  revrend  doctor,  I  may  find  the 
secrit  of  suxess,  and  g-it  a  litell  for  my  own  share.  I've 
sevral  fi-ends  in  the  press,  ha\Tag  paid  for  many  of  those 
chaps'  ch'ink,  and  given  them  other  treets ;  and  so  I 
think  I've  got  all  the  emilents  of  suxess  ;  therefore,  I 
am  detummined,  as  I  said,  to  igsept  your  kind  offer, 
and  beg  to  withdraw  the  wuds  which  I  made  yous  of 
when  I  refyoused  your  hoxpatable  offer.  I  must,  how- 
ever  " 

"  I  wish  you'd  withdraw  yourself,"  said  Sir  John, 
busting  into  a  most  igstrorinary  rage,  "  and  not  inter- 
rupt the  company  with  your  infernal  talk  I     Go  down, 


192  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

and  get  us  coffee ;  and,  heart  ye  !  hold  your  imperti- 
nent tongue,  or  I'll  break  every  bone  in  your  body. 
You  shall  have  the  place,  as  I  said  ;  and  while  you're 
in  my  service,  you  shall  be  my  servant ;  but  you  don't 
stay  in  my  service  after  to-morrow.     Go  down  stairs, 

sir  ;  and  don't  stand  staring  here  !" 

*  *  ^  *  * 

In  this  abrupt  way,  my  evening  ended  :  it's  with  a 
melanchely  regret  that  I  think  what  came  of  it.  I 
don't  wear  plush  any  more.  I  am  an  altered,  a  wiser, 
and,  I  trust,  a  better  man. 

I'm  about  a  nowle  (having  made  great  progriss  in 
spelling),  in  the  style  of  my  friend  Bullwig  ;  and  pre- 
paring for  publigation,  in  the  Doctor's  Cyclopedear, 
The  Lives  of  Eminent  Brittish  and  Foring  Washer- 
women. 


EPISTLES    TO    THE    LITERATI.  193 


EPISTLES   TO   THE   LITERATI. 

CH-S    Y-LL-WPL-SH,  ESQ.    TO    SIR   EDWARD    LYTTOX    BULWEK,    BT. 
JOHN   THOMAS   SMITH,    ESQ.    TO    C S    Y H,    ESQ. 

NOTUS. 

The  suclniistansies  of  tlie  following  liarticle  are  as  folios  : 
— Me  and  my  friend,  the  sellabrated  Mr.  Smith,  recko- 
nised  each  other  in  the  Haymarket  Theatre,  during  the 
paformints  of  the  new  play.  I  was  settn  in  the  gallery, 
and  sung  out  to  him  (he  was  in  the  pit),  to  jine  us  after 
the  play,  over  a  glass  of  bear  and  a  cold  hoyster,  in  my 
pantry,  the  famly  being  out. 

Smith  came  as  appinted.  We  descorsed  on  the  sub- 
jick  of  the  comady ;  and,  after  sefral  glases,  we  each  of 
us  agread  to  write  a  letter  to  the  other,  giving  our  no- 
tiums  of  ihe  pease.  Paper  was  brought  that  momint ; 
and  Smith  writing  his  harticle  across  the  knife-bord,  I 
dasht  off  mine  on  the  dresser. 

Our  agreement  was,  that  I  (being  remarkabble  for 
my  style  of  riting)  should  cretasize  the  languidge, 
whilst  he  should  take  up  with  the  plot  of  the  play ; 
and  the  candied  reader  will  parding  me  for  having  hol- 
tered  the  original  address  of  my  letter,  and  directed  it 
to  Sir  Edward  himself;  and  for  ha\dng  incopperated 
Smith's  remarks  in  the  midst  of  my  own. 


194  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 


Mayfair,  Nov.  30,  1839.  Midnite. 
Honrabble  Barnet ! — Retired  from  the  littery  world 
a  year  or  moar,  I  didn't  think  any  think  would  injuice 
me  to  come  forrards  again  ;  for  I  was  content  with  my 
share  of  reputation,  and  propoas'd  to  add  nothink  to 
those  immortial  wux  which  have  rendered  this  Maga- 
seen  so  sallybrated. 

Shall  I  tell  you  the  reazn  of  my  re-appearants  ? — a 
desire  for  the  benefick  of  my  fellow-creatures  ?  Fiddle- 
stick !  A  mighty  truth  with  which  my  busm  laboured, 
and  which  I  must  bring  forth  or  die  ?  Nonsince — stuff: 
money's  the  secret,  my  dear  Barnet, — money — Vargong^ 
gelt^  spicunia.  Here's  quarter-day  coming,  and  I'm  blest 
if  I  can  pay  my  landlud,  unless  I  can  ad  hartificially  to 
my  inkum. 

This  is,  however,  bet^vigst  you  and  me.  There's  no 
need  to  blacard  the  streets  with  it,  or  to  tell  the  British 
pubhc  that  Fitzroy  Y-11-wpl-sh  is  short  of  money,  or 

that  the  sallybrated  hauthor  of  the  Y Papers  is  in 

peskewniary  difficklties,  or  is  fiteagued  by  his  superhu- 
man littery  labors,  or  by  his  famly  suckmstansies,  or  by 
any  other  pusnal  matter  :  my  maxim,  dear  B,  is  on 
these  pints  to  be  as  quiet  as  posbile.  What  the  juice 
does  the  public  care  for  you  or  me  ?  Why  must  we  al- 
ways, in  prefizzes  and  what  not,  be  a  talking  aboui  our- 
selves and  our  igstrodnary  merrats,  woas,  and  injaries  ? 
It  is  on  this  subjick  that  I  porpies,  my  dear  Barnet,  to 
speak  to  you  in  a  frendly  way ;  and  praps  you'll  find 
my  ad^nse  tolrabbly  holesum. 

Well,  then, — if  you  care  about  the  apinions,  fui 
good  or  evil,  of  us  poor  suvvants,  I  tell  you,  in  the  most 
candied  way,  I  like  you,  Barnet.     I've  had  my  ffing  at 


EPISTLES    TO    THE    LITERATI.  195 

you  in  my  day  (for,  entry  nou,  that  last  stoary  I  roat 
about  you  and  Larnder  was  as  big  a  bownsir  as  ever 
was) — I've  had  my  fling  at  you  ;  but  I  Kke  you.  One 
may  objeck  to  an  immence  deal  of  your  writings,  Avhich, 
betwigst  you  and  me,  contain  more  sham  scentiment, 
sham  morallaty,  sham  poatry,  than  you'd .  like  to  own ; 
but,  in  spite  of  this,  there's  the  stuf  in  you  :  you've  a 
kind  and  loyal  heart  in  you,  Barnet — a  trifle  deboshed, 
perhaps  ;  a  kean  i,  igspecially  for  what's  comic  (as  for 
your  tradgady,  it's  mighty  flatchulent),  and  a  ready 
plesnt  pen.  The  man  who  says  you  are  an  As  is  an 
As  himself.  Don't  believe  him,  Barnet ;  not  that  I  sup- 
pose you  wil, — for,  if  I've  formed  a  correck  apiniou  of 
you  from  your  wucks,  you  think  your  small-beear  as 
good  as  most  men's  :  every  man  does, — and  why  not  ? 
We  brew,  and  we  love  our  own  tap — amen ;  but  the 
pint  betwigst  us,  is  this  stewpid,  absudd  way  of  cr}nng 
out,  because  the  public  don't  like  it  too.  Why  shood 
they,  my  dear  Barnet  ?  You  may  vow  that  they  are 
fools  ;  or  that  the  critix  are  your  enemies ;  or  that  the 
wuld  should  judge  your  poams  by  your  critticle  rules, 
and  not  their  own  :  you  may  beat  your  breast,  and  vow 
you  are  a  marter,  and  you  won't  mend  the  matter. 
Take  heart,  man  !  you're  not  so  misrabble  after  all ; 
your  spirits  need  not  be  so  very  cast  down  ;  you  are  not 
so  very  badly  paid.  I'd  lay  a  wager  that  you  make, 
with  one  thing  or  another — plays,  novvles,  pamphlicks, 
and  little  odd  jobbs  here  and  there — your  three  thow- 
snd  a-year.  There's  many  a  man,  dear  Bullwig,  that 
works  for  less,  and  lives  content.  Why  shouldn't  you  ? 
Three  thowsnd  a-year  is  no  such  bad  thing, — let  alone 


196  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 


the  barnetcy  :  it  must  be  a  great  comfort  to  have  that 
bloody  hand  in  your  skitching. 

But  don't  you  sea,  that  in  a  wuld  naturally  envius, 
wickid,  and  fond  of  a  joak,  this  very  barnetcy,  these 
very  cumplaints, — this  ceaseless  groning,  and  moning, 
and  wining  of  yours,  is  igsackly  the  thing  which  makes 
people  laff  and  snear  more  ?  If  you  were  ever  at  a 
great  school,  you  must  recklect  who  was  the  boy  most 
buUid,  and  buffitid,  and  purshewd — he  who  minded  it 
most.  He  who  could  take  a  basting  got  but  few  ;  he 
who  rord  and  wep  because  the  knotty  boys  called  him 
nicknames,  was  nicknamed  wuss  and  wuss.  I  recklect 
there  was  at  our  school,  in  Smithfield,  a  chap  of  this 
milksop,  spoony  sort,  who  appeared  among  the  romp- 
ing, ragged  fellers  in  a  fine  flanning  dressing-gownd, 
that  his  mama  had  given  him.  That  pore  boy  was 
beaten  in  a  way  that  his  dear  ma  and  aunts  didn't  know 
him :  his  fine  flanning  dressing-gownd  was  torn  all  to 
ribbings,  and  he  got  no  pease  in  the  school  ever  after, 
but  was  abliged  to  be  taken  to  some  other  saminary, 
where,  I  make  no  doubt,  he  was  paid  off  igsactly  in  the 
same  way. 

Do  you  take  the  halligory,  my  dear  Barnet  ? 
Mutayto  nominy — you  know  what  I  mean.  You  are 
the  boy,  and  your  barnetcy  is  the  dressing-gownd. 
You  dress  yourself  out  finer  than  other  chaps,  and  they 
all  begin  to  sault  and  hustle  you ;  it's  human  nature, 
Barnet.  You  shew  weakness,  think  of  your  dear  ma, 
mayhap,  and  begin  to  cry :  it's  all  over  with  you ;  the 
whole  school  is  at  you — upper  boys  and  under,  big  and 
little ;  the  dirtiest  little  fag  in  the  place  will  pipe  out 


EPISTLES    TO    THE    LITERATI.  197 

blaggerd  names  at  you,  and  take  liis  pewny  tug  at  your 
tail. 

The  only  way  to  avoid  such  consperracies  is  to  put 
a  pair  of  stowt  shoalders  forrards,  and  bust  through 
the  crowd  of  raggymuffins.  A  good  bold  fellow  dubls 
his  fistt,  and  cries,  "Wha  dares  meddle  wi'  me?" 
When  Scott  got  his  barnetcy,  for  instans,  did  any  one 
of  us  cry  out  ?  No,  by  the  laws,  he  was  our  master  ; 
and  wo  betide  the  chap  that  said  neigh  to  him  !  But 
there's  barnets  and  barnets.  Do  you  recklect  that  fine 
chapter  in  Squintin  Durward^  about  the  too  fellos  and 
cups,  at  the  siege  of  the  bishop's  castle  \  One  of  them 
was  a  brave  warrier,  and  kep  his  cup  ;  they  strangled 
the  other  chap — strangled  him,  and  laffed  at  him  too. 

With  respeck,  then,  to  the  barnetcy  pint,  this  is 
my  ad\'ice ;  brazen  it  out.  Us  Httery  men  I  take  to 
be  hke  a  pack  of  schoolboys — childish,  greedy,  ennus, 
holding  by  our  friends,  and  always  ready  to  fight. 
What  must  be  a  man's  conduck  among  such  ?  He 
must  either  take  no  notis,  and  pass  on  myjastick,  or 
alse  turn  round  and  pummle  soundly — one,  two,  right 
and  left,  ding  dong  over  the  face  and  eyes ;  above  all, 
never  acknowledge  that  he  is  hurt.  Years  ago,  for 
instans  (we've  no  ill  blood,  but  only  mention  this  by 
way  of  igsample),  you  began  a  sparring  with  this  Mag- 
aseen.  Law  bless  you  such  a  ridicklus  gaym  I  never 
see :  a  man  so  belaybord,  beflustered,  bewolloped,  was 
never  known ;  it  was  the  lafi*  of  the  whole  to^vn. 
Your  intelackshal  natur,  respected  Barnet,  is  not  fiz- 
zickly  adapted,  so  to  speak,  for  encounters  of  this  sort. 
You  must  not  indulo-e  in  combats  ^-ith  us  course  bul- 


198  THE    yELLO^YPLUSH    PAPERS. 

lies  of  the  press ;  you  have  not  the  staminy  for  a  reglar 
set-to.  What,  then,  is  your  plan?  In  the  midst  of 
the  mob  to  pass  as  quiet  as  you  can  ;  you  won't  be 
undistubbed.  Who  is?  Some  stray  Mx  and  bufRts 
v/ill  fall  to  you — mortial  man  is  subjick  to  such ;  but 
if  you  begin  to  wins  and  cry  out,  and  set  up  for  a 
marter,  wo  betide  you  ! 

These  remarks,  pusnal  as  I  confess  them  to  be,  are 
yet,  I  assure  you,  written  in  perfick  good-natur,  and 
have  been  inspired  by  your  play  of  the  Sea  Capting, 
and  prefiz  to  it;  which  latter  is  on  matters  intirely 
pusnall,  and  will,  therefore,  I  trust,  igscuse  this  kind  of 
ad  hominam  (as  they  say)  diskcushion.  I  propose,  hon- 
rabble  Barnit,  to  cumsider  calmly  thfe  play  and  prephiz, 
and  to  speak  of  both  with  that  honisty  which,  in  the 
pantry  or  studdy,  I've  been  always  phamous  for.  Let 
us,  in  the  first  place,  listen  to  the  opening  of  the  "  Pre- 
face to  the  Fourth  Edition :" 

"  No  one  can  be  more  sensible  than  I  am  of  the  many 
faults  and  deficiencies  to  be  found  in  this  play ;  but,  perhaps, 
when  it  is  considered  how  very  rarely  it  has  happened  in  the 
histoiy  of  our  dramatic  literature  that  good  acting  plays  have 
been  produced,  except  by  those  who  have  either  been  actors 
themselves,  or  formed  their  habits  of  literature,  almost  of  life, 
behind  the  scenes,  I  might  have  looked  for  a  criticism  more 
generous,  and  less  exacting  and  rigorous,  than  that  which  the 
attempts  of  an  author  accustomed  to  another  class  of  compo- 
sition have  been  received  by  a  large  proportion  of  the  periodi- 
cal press. 

"  It  is  scarcely  possible,  indeed,  that  this  play  should  not 
contain  faults  of  two  kinds:  first,  the  faults  of  one  who  has 
necessarily  much  to  learn  in  the  mechanism  of  his  art:  and, 
secondly,  of  one  who,  having  written  largely  in  the  narrative 


EPISTLES    TO    THE    LITERATI.  199 


style  of  fiction,  may  not  unfrequently  mistake  the  efiects  of  a 
novel  for  the  effects  of  a  drama.  I  may  add  to  these,  perhaps, 
the  deficiencies  that  arise  from  uncertain  health  and  broken 
spirits,  which  render  the  author  more  susceptible  than  he  might 
have  been  some  years  since  to  that  spu'it  of  depreciation  and 
hostility  which  it  has  been  his  misfortune  to  excite  amongst  the 
general  contributors  to  the  periodical  press ;  for.  the  conscious- 
ness that  every  endeavour  will  be  made  to  cavil^to  distort,  to 
misrepresent,  and,  in  fine,  if  possible,  to  run  down,  will  occa- 
sionally haunt  even  the  hours  of  composition,  to  check  the  in- 
spiration, and  damp  the  ardour. 

"  Having  confessed  thus  much  frankly  and  fairly,  and  with 
a  hope  that  I  may  ultimately  do  better,  should  I  continue  to 
write  for  the  stage  (which  nothing  but  an  assm^ance  that^  with 
all  my  defects,  I  may  yet  bring  some  little  aid  to  the  drama,  at 
a  time  when  any  aid,  feowever  humble,  ought  to  be  welcome  to 
the  lovers  of  the  art,  could  induce  me  to  do),  may  I  be  per- 
mitted to  say  a  few  words  as  to  some  of  the  objections  which 
have  been  made  against  this  play  ?" 

Now,  my  dear  sir,  look  what  a  pretty  number  of 
please  you  put  forrards  here,  why  your  play  shouldn't 
be  good. 

First.  Good  plays  are  almost  always  written  by 
actors. 

Secknd.  You  are  a  novice  to  the  style  of  composi- 
tion. 

Third:  You  may  be  mistaken  in  your  effects,  being 
a  novelist  by  trade,  and  not  a  play-writer. 

Fourthly.  Your  in  such  bad  helth  and  sperrits. 

Fifthly.  Your  so  afraid  of  the  critix,  that  they 
damp  your  arder. 

For  shame,  for  shame,  man !  What  confeshns  is 
these, — what  painful  pewhng  and  piping !  Yom*  not 
H  babby.     I  take  you  to  be  some  seven  or  eight  and 


200  THE  TELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

thutty  years  old — "in  the  morning  of  youth,"  as  the 
flosofer  says.  Don't  let  any  such  nonsince  take  your 
reazn  prisoner.  What  you,  an  old  hand  amongst  us, 
— an  old  soljer  of  our  sovring  quean  the  press, — you, 
who  have  had  the  best  pay,  have  held  the  topmost 
rank  (ay,  and  deserved  them  too ! — I  gif  you  leaf  to 
quot  me  in  ^siaty,  and  say,  "  I  am  a  man  of  genius ; 
Y-11-wpl-sh  says  so  "), — you  to  lose  heart,  and  cry  pick- 
avy,  and  begin  to  howl,  because  little  boys  fling  stones 
at  you!  Fie,  man!  take  courage;  and,  bearing  the 
terrows  of  your  blood-red  hand,  as  the  poet  says,  pun- 
ish us,  if  we've  ofended  you,  punish  us  like  a  man,  or 
bear  your  own  punishment  like  a  man.  Don't  try 
to  come  off  with  such  misrabble  locftfic  as  that  above. 

What  do  you  ?  You  give  four  satisfackary  reazns 
that  the  play  is  bad  (the  secknd  is  naught, — for  your  no 
such  chicking  at  play-writing,  this  being  the  forth). 
You  shew  that  the  play  must  be  bad,  and  then  begin 
to  deal  with  the  critix  for  finding  folt ! 

Was  there  ever  wuss  generalship  ?  The  play  is 
bad, — your  right, — a  wuss  I  never  see  or  read.  But 
why  kneed  you  say  so  ?  If  it  was  so  very  bad,  why 
publish  it  ?  Because  you  wish  to  serve  the  drama  !  O 
fie  !  don't  lay  that  flattering  function  to  your  sole,  as 
Milton  observes.  Do  you  believe  that  this  Sea  Cap- 
ting  can  serve  the  drama  ?  Did  you  never  intend  that 
it  should  serve  any  thing,  or  any  body  else  ?  Of  cors 
you  did  !  You  wrote  it  for  money, — money  from  the 
maniger,  money  from  the  bookseller, — for  the  same 
reason  that  I  write  this.  Sir,  Shakspeare  wrote  for  the 
very  same  reasons,  and  I  never  heard  that  he  bragged 
about  serving  the  drama.      Av/ay  with   this  canting 


EPISTLES    TO    THE    LITERATI.  201 


about  gi-eat  motifs !  Let  us  not  be  too  prowd,  my  dear 
Bamet,  and  fansy  ourselves  marters  of  the  truth,  mar- 
ters  or  apostels.  We  are  but  tradesmen,  working  for 
bread,  and  not  for  righteousness'  sake.  Let's  try  and 
work  honestly ;  but  don't  let's  be  prayting  pompisly 
about  our  "sacred  calling."  The  taylor  who  makes 
your  coats  (and  very  well  they  are  made  too,  with  the 
best  of  velvit  collars) — I  say  Stulze,  or  Nugee,  might 
cry  out  that  their  motifs  were  but  to  assert  the  eturnle 
truth  of  tayloring,  with  just  as  much  reazn ;  and  who 
would  beheve  them  ? 

Well ;  after  this  acknollitchmint  that  the  play  is 
bad,  come  sefral  pages  of  attack  on  the  critix,  and  the 
folt  those  gentry  have  found  with  it.  With  these  I 
shan't  middle  for  the  presnt.  You  defend  all  the 
characters  1  by  1,  and  conclude  your  remarks  as  fol- 
lows : — 

"  I  must  be  pardoned  for  this  disquisition  on  my  own  de- 
signs. "WTien  every  means  is  employed  to  misrepresent,  it  be- 
comes, perhaps,  allowable  to  explain.  And  if  I  do  not  think 
that  my  faults  as  a  dramatic  author  are  to  be  found  in  the 
study  and  delineation  of  character,  it  is  precisely  because  that 
is  the  point  on  which  all  my  previous  pursuits  in  literature  and 
actual  Hfe  would  be  most  likely  to  preserve  me  from  the  errors 
I  own  elsewhere,  whether  of  misjudgment  or  inexperience. 

"I  have  now  only  to  add  my  thanks  to  the  actors  for  the 
zeal  and  talent  with  which  they  have  embodied  the  characters 
intrusted  to  them.  The  sweetness  and  grace  with  which  Miss 
Faucit  embellished  the  part  of  Violet,  which,  though  only  a 
sketch,  is  most  necessary  to  the  colouring  and  harmony  of  the 
play,  were  perhaps  the  more  pleasing  to  the  audience  from  the 
generosity,  rare  with  actors,  which  induced  her  to  take  a  part 
so  far  inferior  to  her  powers.  The  applause  which  attends  the 
\wrforraance  of  Mrs.  Warner  and  Mr.  Strickland  attests  their 


202  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

success  iu  characters  of  unusual  difficulty  ;  while  the  singular 
beauty  and  nobleness,  whether  of  conception  or  execution,  with 
which  the  greatest  of  living  actors  has  elevated  the  part  of 
Iforman  (so  totally  different  from  his  ordinary  range  of  char- 
acter), is  a  new  proof  of  liis  versatility  and  accomphshment  in 
all  that  belongs  to  his  art.  It  would  be  scarcely  gracious  to 
conclude  these  remarks  withoiit  expressing  my  acknowledg- 
ment of  that  generous  and  indulgent  sense  of  justice  which, 
forgetting  all  political  differences  in  a  hterary  arena,  has  ena- 
bled me  to  appeal  to  approving  audiences — from  hostile  crit- 
ics. And  it  is  this  which  alone  encourages  me  to  hope  that^ 
jooner  or  later,  I  may  add  to  the  dramatic  literature  of  my 
country  something  that  may  find,  perhaps,  almost  as  many 
friends  in  the  next  age  as  it  has  been  the  fate  of  the  author  to 
find  enemies  in  this." 

See,  now,  what  a  good  comfi-abble  vanaty  is! 
Pepple  have  qiiarld  with  the  dramatic  characters  of 
yoiu"  play.  "JSTo,"  says  you;  "if  I  am  remarhabble 
br  any  think,  it's  for  my  study  and  delineation  of  char- 
acter ;  that  is  presizely  the  pint  to  which  my  httery 
ourshuits  have  led  me."  Have  you  read  Jil  Blaw,  my 
dear  sir  ?  Have  you  p)irouzed  that  exlent  tragady,  the 
Critic  ?  There's  something  so  like  this  in  Sir  Fretful 
Plaguy,  and  the  Archbishop  of  Granadiers,  that  I'm 
Mest  if  I  can't  laff  till  my  sides  ake.  Think  of  the 
critix  fixing  on  the  very  pint  for  which  you  are  famus ! 
— the  roags !  And  spose  they  had  said  the  plot  was 
absudd,  or  the  languitch  absudder,  still,  don't  you 
think  you  would  have  had  a  word  in  defens  of  them 
too — you  who  hope  to  find  fi-ends  for  your  dramatic  w' ux 
m  the  nex  age  ?  Poo !  I  tell  thee,  Barnet,  that  the  nex 
age  will  be  wiser  and  better  than  this ;  and  do  you 
think  that  it  will  imply  itself  a    reading   of  vour  traja- 


EPISTLES    TO    THE    LITERATI.  203 

dies  ?     This  is    misantrofy,  Barnet — reglar  Byronism ; 
and  you  ot  to  have  a  better  apinian  of  human  natur. 

Your  apinion  about  the  actors  I  shan't  here  middle 
with.  They  all  acted  exlently  as  far  as  my  humbile 
judgement  goes,  and  your  write  in  giving  them  all 
possbile  prays.  But  let's  consider  the  last  sentence  ot 
the  prefiz,  my  dear  Barnet,  and  see  what  a  pretty  set 
of  apiniuns  you  lay  down. 

1.  The  critix  are  your  inymies  in  this  age. 

2.  In  the  nex,  however,  you  hope  to  find  newmrous 
fi-ends. 

3.  And  it's  a  satisfackshn  to  think  that,  in  spite  of 
pohtticle  diffrances,  you  have  found  frendly  aujences 
here. 

IS^ow,  my  dear  Barnet,  for  a  man  who  begins  so 
humbly  with  what  my  friend  Father  Prout  calls  an 
argamantum  ad  miser icorj am,  who  ignoledges  that  his 
play  is  bad,  that  his  pore  dear  helth  is  bad,  that  those 
cussid  critix  have  played  the  juice  with  him — I  say,  for 
a  man  who  beginns  in  such  a  humbill  toan,  it's  rayther 
rich  to  see  how  you  end. 

My  dear  Barnet,  do  you  suppose  that  j;o?z7^zcfe 
diffrances  prejudice  pepple  against  you?  What  are 
your  politix  ?  Wig,  I  presume — so  are  mine,  ontry  noo. 
And  what  if  they  are  Wig,  or  Eaddiccle,  or  Cumsuv- 
vative  ?  Does  any  mortial  man  in  England  care  a  phig 
for  your  pohtix?  Do  you  think  yourself  such  a  mity 
man  in  parlymint,  that  critix  are  to  be  angiy  with  you, 
and  aujences  to  be  cumsidered  magnanamous  because 
they  treat  you  fairly?  There,  now,  was  Sherridn,  he 
who  roat  the  Rifles  and  School  for  Scandle  (I  saw  the 
Rifles  after  your  play,  and,  O  Barnet,  if  you  knew  Vvhat 


204  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

a  relief  it  was  !) — there,  I  say,  was  Sherridn — lie  wa& 
a  politticle  character,  if  you  please — he  could  make  a 
spitch  or  two — do  you  spose  that  Pitt,  Purseyvall,  Cas- 
tlerag,  old  George  the  Third  himself,  wooden  go  to  se 
the  Rivles — ay,  and  clap  hands  too,  and  laff  and  ror, 
for  all  Sherry's  Wiggery?  Do  you  spose  the  critix 
wouldn't  applaud  too  ?  For  shame,  Barnet !  what 
ninnis,  what  hartless  rasMes,  you  must  beleave  them 
to  be, — in  the  fust  plase,  to  fancy  that  you  are  a  polit- 
ticle genius ;  in  the  secknd,  to  let  your  politix  iuterfear 
with  their  notiums  about  your  littery  merits ! 

"Put  that  nonsince  out  of  your  head,"  as  Fox 
said  to  Bonnypart.  Wasn't  it  that  great  genus, 
Dennis,  that  wrote  in  Swiff  and  Poop's  time,  who 
fansid  that  the  French  king  wooden  make  pease  unless 
Dennis  was  delivered  up  to  him  ?  Upon  my  wud,  I 
doant  think  he  carrid  his  diddlusion  much  futher  than 
a  serting  honrabble  barnet  of  my  acquentance. 

And,  then,  for  the  nex  age.  Respected  sir,  thi^  is 
another  diddlusion ;  a  grose  misteak  on  your  part,  or 
my  name  is  not  Y — sh.  These  plays  immortial  ?  Ah, 
parrysample,  as  the  French  say,  this  is  too  strong — the 
small-beer  of  the  Sea  Capting,  or  of  any  suxessor  of  the 
Sea  Capting,  to  keep  sweet  for  sentries  and  sentries ! 
Barnet,  Barnet !  do  you  know  the  natur  of  bear  ?  Six 
weeks  is  not  past,  and  here  your  last  casque  is  sour — 
the  public  won't  even  now  drink  it ;  and  I  lay  a  wager 
that,  betwigst  this  day  (the  thuttieth  November)  and  the 
end  of  the  year,  the  barl  will  be  off  the  stox  altogether, 
never,  never  to  return. 

I've  netted  down  a  few  frazes  here  and  there,  which 
you  will  do  well  to  igsamin  : — 


EPISTLES    TO    THE    LITERATI.  205 


XORMAX. 

"The  eternal  Flora 

"Woos  to  her  odorous  haunts  the  western  wind ; 
"While  circling  round  and  upward  from  the  boughs, 
Golden  with  fruits  that  lure  the  joyous  bird?, 
Melody,  like  a  happy  soul  released, 
Hangs  in  the  air,  and  from  invisible  plumes 
Shakes  sweetness  down !" 

K0RMA>'. 

"  And  these  the  lips 
"Where,  till  this  hour,  the  sad  and  ho  v  kiss 
Of  parting  linger'd,  as  the  fragrance  left 
By  angels  when  they  touch  the  earth  and  vanish." 


"  Hark  I  she  h'as  blessed  her  son !     I  bid  ye  witness, 
Ye  listening  heavens — thou  circumambient  air: 
The  ocean  sighs  it  back — and  with  the  murmur 
Rustle  the  happy  leaves.     All  nature  breathes 
Aloud — aloft — to  the  Great  Parent's  ear, 
The  blessing  of  the  mother  on  her  child." 

yORMAX. 

"  I  dream  of  love,  enduring  faith,  a  heart 
Mingled  with  mine — a  deathless  heritage. 
Which  I  can  take  unsullied  to  the  stars, 
"When  the  Great  Father  calls  his  children  home." 

XORMAX. 

*  The  blue  air,  breathless  in  the  starry  peace. 
After  long  silence  hushed  as  heaven,  but  filled 
"With  happy  thoughts  as  heaven  with  angels.'" 

KORMAX. 

"  Till  one  calm  night,  when  over  earth  and  wave 
Heaven  looked,  its  love  from  all  its  numberless  stars! 


206  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

NOKMAX. 
"  Those  eyes,  the  guiding  stars  by  which  I  steered.** 

NORMAX. 

"  That  great  mother 
(The  only  parent  I  have  known),  whose  face 
Is  bright  with  gazing  ever  on  the  stars — 
The  mother-sea." 

,  NOKMAN. 

"  My  bark  shall  be  our  home  ; 
The  stars  that  light  the  angel  palaces 
Of  air,  our  lamps." 

XORMAN. 

"  A  name  that  glitters,  like  a  star,  amidst 
The  galaxy  of  England's  loftiest  born." 

LADY  ARUNDEL. 

"  And  see  him  princeliest  of  the  lion  tribe, 
"Whose  swords  and  coronals  gleam  around  the  throne, 
The  guardian  stars  of  the  imperial  isle." 

The  fust  spissymen  bias  been  going  the  round  of  all 
the  papers,  as  real,  reglar  poatry.  Those  wickid  critix ! 
they  must  have  been  laflSng  in  their  sleafs  when  they 
quoted  it.  Malody,  sucMing  round  and  uppards  from 
the  bows,  like  a  happy  soul  released,  hangs  in  the  air, 
and  from  invizable  plumes  shakes  sweetness  down. 
Mighty  fine,  truly !  but  let  mortial  man  tell  the  meanink 
of  the  passidge.  Ts  it  musicTcle  sweetnisa  that  Malody 
shakes  down  from  its  plumes — its  wings,  that  is,  or  tail 
— or  some  pekewliar  scent  that  proceeds  from  happy 
souls  released,  and  which  they  shake  down  from  the 


EPISTLES    TO    THE    LITERATI.  207 

trees  wlien  they  are  suckling  round  and  uppards  ?  1$ 
this  poatry,  Barnet  ?  Lay  your  hand  on  your  busm,  and 
speak  out  boldly :  Is  it  poatry,  or  sheer  windy  humbugg, 
that  sounds  a  little  melojous,  and  won't  bear  the  com- 
manest  test  of  comman  sence  ? 

In  passidge  number  2,  the  same  bisniss  is  going  on, 
though  in  a  more  comprehensable  way :  the  air,  the 
leaves,  the  otion,  are  fild  with  emocean  at  Capting 
Norman's  happiness.  Pore  Nature  is  dragged  in  to 
partisapate  in  his  joys,  just  as  she  has  been  befor.  Once 
in  a  poem,  this  universle  simfithy  is  very  well ;  but  once 
is  enufF,  my  dear  Barnet :  and  that  once  should  be  in 
some  great  suckmstans,  surely, — such  as  the  meeting  of 
Adam  and  Eve,  in  Pardice  Lost,  or  Jewpeter  and 
Jewno,  in  Hoamer,  where  there  seems,  as  it  were,  a 
reasn  for  it.  But  sea-captings  should  not  be  eternly 
spowting  and  invoking  gods,  hevns,  starrs,  angels,  and 
other  silestial  influences.  We  can  all  do  it,  Barnet ; 
nothing  in  life  is  esier.  I  can  comjDare  my  livry  buttons 
to  the  stars,  or  the  clouds  of  my  backopipe  to  the  dark 
voUums  that  ishew  from  Mount  Hetna  ;  or  I  can  say 
that  ano-els  are  lookins;  down  from  them,  and  the  tobacco 
silf,  like  a  happy  sole  released,  is  circling  round  and 
upwards,  and  shaking  sweetness  down.  All  this  is  as 
esy  as  drink;  but  it's  not  poatry,  Barnet,  nor  natural. 
People,  when  their  mothers  reckonise  them,  don't  howl 
about  the  suckumambient  air,  and  paws  to  think  of  the 
happy  leaves  a  rustling — at  least,  one  mistrusts  them  if 
they  do.  Take  another  instans  out  of  your  own  play. 
Capting  Norman  (with  his  eternll  slack-jaio  !)  meets  the 
gal  of  his  art : — 


208  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 


"  Look  up,  look  up,  my  Violet — weeping  ?  fie  ! 
And  trembling  too — yet  leaning  on  my  breast. 
In  truth,  thou  art  too  soft  for  such  rude  shelter. 
Look  up!     I  come  to  woo  thee  to  the  seas. 
My  sailor's  bride !     Hast  thou  no  voice  but  blushes? 
Nav — from  those  roses  let  me,  like  the  bee, 
Dras:  forth  the  secret  sweetness !" 


VIOLET. 


"  Oh  what  thoughts 
"Were  kept  for  speech  when  we  once  more  should  meet, 
Now  blotted  from  the  page ;  and  all  I  feel 
Is — thou  art  with  me!" 

Very  right,  Miss  Violet — tlie  scentiment  is  natral, 
afFeckshnit,  pleasing,  simple  (it  might  have  been  in 
more  grammaticle  languidge,  and  no  harm  done) :  but 
never  mind,  the  feeling  is  pritty :  and  I  can  fancy,  my 
dear  Barnet,  a  pritty,  smiling,  weeping  lass,  looking  up 
in  a  man's  face  and  saying  it.  But  the  capting  I — 0 
this  capting  I — this  windy,  spouting  capting,  with  his 
prittinesses,  and  conseated  apollogies  for  the  hardness  of 
his  busm,  and  his  old,  stale,  vapid  simalies,  and  his 
wishes  to  be  a  bee  !  Pish  I  Men  don't  make  love  in  this 
finniking  way.  It's  the  part  of  a  sentymentle,  poeticle 
taylor,  not  a  galliant  gentleman,  in  command  of  one  of 
lier  madjisty's  vessels  of  war. 

Look  at  the  remaining  extrac,  honored  Barnet,  and 
acknollidge  that  Capting  Norman  is  eturnly  repeating 
himself,  with  his  endless  jabber,  about  stars  and  angels. 
Look  at  the  neat  grammaticle  twist  of  Lady  Arundel's 
spitch,  too,  who,  in  the  corse  of  three  lines,  has  made 
her  son  a  prince,  a  lion,  with  a  sword  and  coronal,  and 
a  star.     Why  jumble  and  sheak  up  matafoi's  in  this 


EPI3TLES    TO    THE    LITERATI.  209 

way  ?  Barnet,  one  simily  is  quite  enuff  in  the  best  of 
sentenses  (and,  I  preshume,  I  kneedn't  tell  you  that  it's 
as  well  to  have  it  like^  when  you  are  about  it).  Take 
my  advise,  honrabble  sir — listen  to  a  humble  footmin  : 
it's  genrally  best  in  poatry  to  understand  puffickly  what 
you  mean  yourself,  and  to  ingspress  your  meaning 
clearly  afterwoods — in  the  simpler  words  the  better, 
praps.  You  may,  for  instans,  call  a  coronet  a  coronal 
(an  "  ancestral  coronal,"  p.  74),  if  you  like,  as  you  might 
call  a  hat  a  "  swart  sombrero,"  "  a  glossy  four-and-nine," 
"  a  silken  helm,  to  storm  impermeable,  and  lightsome 
as  the  breezy  gossamer ;"  but,  in  the  long  run,  it's  as 
well  to  call  it  a  hat.  It  is  a  hat ;  and  that  name  is 
quite  as  poetticle  as  another.  I  think  it's  Playto,  or 
els  Harrystottle,-  who  observes  that  what  we  call  a  rose 
by  any  other  name  would  swell  as  sweet.  Confess,  now, 
dear  Barnet,  don't  you  long  to  call  it  a  Polyanthus  ? 

I  never  see  a  play  more  carelessly  written.  In  such 
a  hurry  you  seem  to  have  bean,  that  you  have  actially 
in  some  sentences  forgot  to  put  in  the  sence.  What  is 
this,  for  instance  ? — 

"This  thrice  precious  one 
Smiled  to  my  eyes — drew  being  from  my  breast — 
Slept  in  ray  arms ; — the  very  tears  I  shed 
Above  my  treasure  were  to  men  and  angels 
Alike  such  holy  sweetness !" 

In  the  name  of  ah  the  angels  that  ever  you  invoked 
— Raphael,  Gabriel,  Uriel,  Zadkiel,  Azrael — what  does 
this  "  holy  sweetness"  mean  ?  We're  not  spinxes  to  read 
such  durk  conandrums.  If  you  knew  my  state  sins  I  came 
upon  this  passidg — I've  neither  slep  nor  eton  ;  I've  neg- 


210  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

lected  my  pantry ;  I've  been  wandring  from  house  to 
house  with  this  riddl  in  my  hand,  and  nobody  can  under- 
stand it.  All  Mr.  Frazier's  men  are  wild,  looking  gloomy 
at  one  another,  and  asking  what  this  may  be.  All  the 
cumtributors  have  been  spoak  to.  The  Docter,  who  knows 
every  languitch,  has  tried  and  giv'n  up ;  we've  sent  to 
Docter  Pettigruel,  who  reads  horyglifics  a  deal  ezier 
than  my  way  of  spellin' — no  anser.  Quick !  quick 
with  a  fifth  edition,  honored  Barnet,  and  set  us  at  rest ! 
While  your  about  it,  please,  too,  to  igsplain  the  two  last 
lines : — 

"  His  merry  bark  with  England's  flag  to  crown  her." 

See  what  dellexy  of  igspreshn,  "  a  flag  to  crown 
her !" 

"  His  merry  bark  with  England's  flag  to  crown  her, 
Fame  for  my  hopes,  and  woman  in  my  cares." 

likewise  the  following : — 

"Girl,  beware 
The  love  that  trifles  round  the  charms  it  gilds 
Oft  ruins  while  it  shines." 

Igsplane  this,  men  and  angels !  I've  tried  every 
way ;  backards,  forards,  and  in  all  sorts  of  tranceposi- 
tions,  as  thus : — 

The  love  that  ruins  round  the  charms  it  shines. 
Gilds  while  it  trifles  oft ; 


Or, 


Tlie  charm  that  gilds  around  the  love  it  ruins, 
Oft  trifles  while  it  shines ; 


EPISTLES    TO    THE    LITERATI.  211 


Or, 


Or, 


Or, 


The  ruins  that  love  gilds  and  shines  arouud, 
Oft  trifles  -while  it  charms ; 


Love,  ■while  it  charms,  shines  round,  and  ruius  oft 
The  trifles  that  it  gilds ; 


The  love  that  trifles,  gilds  and  ruins  oft, 
While  round  the  charms  it  shinea 


All  which  are  as  sensable  as  the  fust  passidge. 

And  with  this  I'U  alow  my  friend  Smith,  who  has 
been  silent  all  this  time,  to  say  a  few  words.  He  has 
not  written  near  so  much  as  me  (being  an  infearor 
genus,  betwigst  ourselves),  but  he  says  he  never  had 
such  mortial  difficklty  with  any  thing  as  with  the  dix- 
cripshn  of  the  plott  of  your  pease.     Here  his  letter. 

To    Ch-rl-s    F-tzr-y    Pl-xt-g-x-t    Y-ll-wpl-sh, 
Esq.,    &€.    <£:c. 

20tk  Xov.  1839. 

My  dear  and  honoured  Sir, — I  have  the  pleasure  of 
laying  before  you  the  following  description  of  the  plot, 
and  a  few  remarks  upon  the  style  of  the  piece  called 
The   Sea   Captain. 

Five-and-twenty  years  back,  a  certain  Lord  Arundel 
had  a  daughter,  heiress  of  his  estates  and  property ;  a 
poor  cousin.  Sir  Maurice  Beevor  (being  next  in  succes- 
sion) ;  and  a  page,  Arthur  Le  Mesnil  by  name. 


212  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

The  daugliter  took  a  fancy  for  the  page,  and  the 
young  persons  were  married  unknown  to  his  lordship. 

Three  days  before  her  confinement  (thinking,  no 
doubt,  that  period  favourable  for  travelling),  the  young 
couple  had  agreed  to  run  away  together,  and  had 
reached  a  chapel  near  on  the  sea-coast,  from  which  they 
were  to  embark,  when  Lord  Arundel  abruptly  put  a 
stop  to  their  proceedings  by  causing  one  Gaussen,  a 
pirate,  to  murder  the  page. 

His  daughter  was  carried  back  to  Arundel  House, 
and,  in  three  days,  gave  birth  to  a  son.  Whether  his 
lordship  knew  of  this  birth  I  cannot  say ;  the  infant, 
however,  was  never  acknowledged,  but  carried  by  Sir 
Maurice  Beevor  to  a  priest,  Onslow  by  name,  who 
educated  the  lad  and  kept  him  for  twelve  years  in 
profound  ignorance  of  his  birth.  The  boy  went  by  the 
name  of  Norman. 

Lady  Arundel  meanwhile  married  again,  again 
became  a  widow,  but  had  a  second  son,  who  was  the 
acknowledged  heir,  and  called  Lord  Ashdale.  Old 
Lord  Arundel  died,  and  her  ladyship  became  countess 
in  her  own  ris^ht. 

When  Norman  was  about  twelve  years  of  age,  his 

mother,  who  wished  to  "  waft  young  Arthur  to  a  distant 

land,"  had  him  sent  on  board  ship.     Who  should  the 

captain  of  the  ship  be  but  Gaussen,  who  received  a 

smart  bribe  from  Sir  Maurice  Beevor  to  kill  the  lad. 

Accordingly,  Gaussen  tied  him  to  a  plank,  and  pitched 

him  overboard. 

ife  *  *  *  * 

About  thirteen  years  after  these  circumstances, 
Violet,  an  orphan  niece  of  Lady  Arundel's  second  hus- 


EPISTLES    TO    THE    LITERATI.  213 


band,  came  to  pass  a  few  weeks  with  her  ladyship.  She 
had  just  come  from  a  sea-voyage,  and  had  been  saved 
from  a  wicked  Algerine  by  an  Enghsh  sea  captain. 
This  sea  captain  was  no  other  than  Norman,  who  had 
been  picked  up  off  his  plank,  and  fell  in  love  with,  and 
was  loved  by,  Miss  Violet. 

A  short  time  after  Violet's  arrival  at  her  aunt's  the 
captain  came  to  pay  her  a  visit,  his  ship  anchoring  off  the 
coast,  Jiear  Lady  Arundel's  residence.  By  a  singular 
coincidence,  that  rogue  Gaussen's  ship  anchored  in  the 
harbour  too.  Gaussen  at  once  knew  his  man,  for  he 
had  "tracked"  him,  (after  drowning  him,)  and  he  in- 
formed Sir  Maurice  Beevor  that  young  Norman  was 
aHve. 

Sir  Maurice  Beevor  informed  her  ladyship.  How 
should  she  get  rid  of  him?  In  this  wise.  He  was  in 
love  with  Violet,  let  him  marry  her  and  be  off;  for 
Lord  Ashdale  was  in  love  with  his  cousin  too ;  and,  of 
course,  could  not  marry  a  young  woman  in  her  station 
of  life.  "You  have  a  chaplain  on  board,"  says  her 
ladyship  to  Captain  Norman ;  "  let  him  attend  to-night 
in  the  ruined  chapel,  marry  Violet,  and  away  with  you 
to  sea."  By  this  means  she  hoped  to  be  quit  of  him 
for  ever. 

But,  unfortunately,  the  conversation  had  been  over- 
heard by  Beevor,  and  reported  to  Ashdale.  Ashdale 
determined  to  be  at  the  chapel  and  carry  off  Violet ;  as 
for  Beevor,  he  sent  Gaussen  to  the  chapel  to  kill  both 
Ashdale  and  Norman,  thus  there  would  only  be  Lady 
Anmdel  between  him  and  the  title. 

Norman,  in  the  meanwhile,  who  had  been  walking 
near  the  chapel,  had  just  seen  his  worthy  old  friend,  the 


214  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

priest,  most  barbarously  murdered  tbere.  Sir  Maurice 
Beevor  had  set  Gaussen  upon  bim ;  bis  reverence  was 
coming  with  the  papers  concerning  Norman's  birtb, 
wbicb  Beevor  wanted  in  order  to  extort  money  from  tbe 
countess.  Gaussen  was,  bowever,  obHged  to  run  before  be 
got  tbe  papers ;  and  tbe  clergyman  bad  time,  before  be 
died,  to  tell  Norman  tbe  story,  and  give  bim  tbe  docu- 
ments, witb  wbicb  Norman  sped  off  to  tbe  castle  to  bave 
an  interview  witb  bis  motber. 

He  lays  bis  wbite  cloak  and  bat  on  tbe  table,  and 
begs  to  be  left  alone  witb  ber  ladysbip.  Lord  Asbdale, 
wbo  is  in  tbe  room,  surlily  quits  it ;  but,  going  out 
cunningly,  puts  on  Norman's  cloak.  "  It  will  be  dark," 
says  be,  "  down  at  tbe  cbapel ;  Violet  won't  know  me ; 
and,  egad  !  I'll  run  off  witb  ber !" 

Norman  bas  bis  interview.  Her  ladysbip  acknow- 
ledges bim,  for  sbe  cannot  belp  it ;  but  will  not  embrace 
bim,  love  bim,  or  bave  anytbing  to  do  witb  bim. 

Away  be  goes  to  tbe  cbapel.  His  cbaplain  was 
tbere  waiting  to  marry  bim  to  Violet,  bis  boat  was  there 
to  carry  bim  on  board  bis  ship,  and  Violet  was  tbere,  too. 

"  Norman,"  says  sbe,  in  tbe  dark,  "  dear  Norman,  I 
knew  you  by  your  wbite  cloak ;  here  I  am."  And  sbe  and 
the  man  in  a  cloak  go  off  to  tbe  inner  cbapel-lo  be  married. 

Tbere  waits  Master  Gaussen  ;  he  bas  seized  tbe 
cbaplain  and  tbe  boat's  crew,  and  is  just  about  to 
murder  tbe  man  in  tbe  cloak,  when — 

Norman  rushes  in  and  cuts  bim  down,  much  to  tbe 
surprise  of  Miss,  for  sbe  never  suspected  it  was  sly  Asb- 
dale wbo  bad  come,  as  we  bave  seen,  disguised,  and 
very  nearly  paid  for  bis  masquerading. 

Asbdale  is  very  grateful ;  but,  when  Norman  per- 


EPISTLES    TO    THE    LITERATI.  216 

sists  in  marrying  Violet,  he  says — no,  he  shan't.  He 
shall  fight ;  he  is  a  coward  if  he  doesn't  fight.  jSTorman 
flings  down  his  sword,  and  says  he  ivonH  fight ;  and — 

Lady  Arundel,  who  has  been  at  prayers  all  this 
time,  rushing  in,  says,  "  Hold !  this  is  your  brother, 
Percy — your  elder  brother !"  Here  is  some  restiveness 
on  Ashdale's  part,  but  he  finishes  by  embracing  his 
brother. 

Norman  burns  all  the  papers  ;  vows  he  will  never 
peach ;  reconciles  himself  with  his  mother  ;  says  he  will 
go  loser ;  but,  having  ordered  his  ship  to  "  veer  "  round 
to  the  chapel,  orders  it  to  veer  back  again,  for  he  will 
jjass  the  honeymoon  at  Arundel  Castle. 

As  you  have  been  pleased  to  ask  my  opinion,  it 
strikes  me  that  there  are  one  or  two  very  good  notions 
in  this  plot.  But  the  author  does  not  fail,  as  he  would 
modestly  have  us  believe,  from  ignorance  of  stage-busi- 
ness ;  he  seems  to  know  too  much,  rather  than  too  little, 
about  the  stage,  to  be  too  anxious  to  cram  in  efiects,  inci- 
dents, perplexities.  There  is  the  perplexity  concerning 
Ashdale's  murder,  and  Norman's  murder,  and  the 
priest's  murder,  and  the  page's  murder,  and  Gaussen's 
murder.  There  is  the  perplexity  about  the  papers, 
and  that  about  the  hat  and  cloak,  (a  silly,  foolish 
obstacle,)  which  only  tantalize  the  spectator,  and  re- 
tard the  march  of  the  drama's  action  ;  it  is  as  if  the 
author  had  said,  "  I  must  have  a  new  incident  in  every 
act,  I  must  keep  tickling  the  spectator  perpetually,  and 
never  let  him  off  until  the  fall  of  the  curtain. 

The  same  disagreeable  bustle  and  petty  complication 
of  intrigue  you  may  remark  in  the  author's  drama  of 
Richelieu.     The  Lady  of  Lyons  was  a  much  simpler  and 


216  THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

better-wrought  plot.  The  incidents  following  each  other 
either  not  too  swiftly  or  startlingly.  In  Richelieu^  it  al- 
ways seemed  to  me  as  if  one  heard  doors  perpetually 
clapping  and  banging ;  one  was  puzzled  to  follow  the 
train  of  conversation,  in  the  midst  of  the  perpetual 
small  noises  that  distracted  one  right  and  left. 

Nor  is  the  list  of  characters  of  The  Sea  Captain  to 
be  despised.  The  outlines  of  all  of  them  are  good.  A 
mother,  for  whom  one  feels  a  proper  tragic  mixture  of 
hatred  and  pity  ;  a  gallant  single-hearted  son,  whom  she 
disdains,  and  who  conquers  her  at  last  by  his  noble  con- 
duct ;  a  dashing,  haughty  Tybalt  of  a  brother ;  a  wicked 
poor  cousin,  a  pretty  maid,  and  a  fierce  buccanier. 
These  people  might  pass  three  hours  very  w^ell  on  the 
stage,  and  interest  the  audience  hugely  ;  but  the  author 
fails  in  filling  up  the  outlines.  His  language  is  absurdly 
stilted,  frequently  careless  ;  the  reader  or  spectator  hears 
a  number  of  loud  speeches,  but  scarce  a  dozen  lines  that 
seem  to  belong  of  nature  to  the  speakers. 

Nothing  can  be  more  fulsome  or  loathsome  to  my 
mind  than  the  continual  sham-religious  clap-traps  which 
the  author  has  put  into  the  mouth  of  his  hero  ;  noth- 
ing more  unsailor-like  than  his  namby-pamby  starlit 
descriptions,  which  my  ingenious  colleague  has,  1  see, 
alluded  to.  "  Thy  faith  my  anchor,  and  thine  eyes  my 
haven,"  cries  the  gallant  captain  to  his  lady.  See  how 
loosely  the  sentence  is  constructed,  like  a  thousand  others 
in  the  book.  The  captain  is  to  cast  anchor  with  the 
girl's  faith  in  her  own  eyes  ;  either  image  might  pass  by 
itself,  but  together,  like  the  quadrupeds  of  Kilkenny, 
they  devour  each  other.  The  captain  tells  his  lieuten- 
ant to  hid  his  hark  veer  round  to  a  point  in  the  harbour, 


EPISTLES    TO    THE    LITERATI.  217 


Was  ever  such  language  ?  My  lady  gives  Sir  Maurice  a 
thousand  pounds  to  luaft  him  (her  son)  to  some  distant 
shore.  Nonsense,  sheer  nonsense  ;  and,  what  is  worse, 
affected  nonsense ! 

Look  at  the  comedy  of  the  poor  cousin.  "  There  is 
a  gi-eat  deal  of  game  on  the  estate — partridges,  hares, 
wild-geese,  snipes,  and  plovers  {smoxking  his  lips) — be- 
sides a  magnificent  preserve  of  sparrows,  which  I  can 
sell  to  the  little  blackguards  in  the  streets  at  a  penny  a 
hundred.    But  I  am  very  poor — a  very  poor  old  knight." 

Is  this  wit,  or  nature  ?  It  is  a  kind  of  sham  wit ;  it 
reads  as  if  it  were  wit,  but  it  is  not.  What  poor,  poor 
stuff,  about  the  little  blackguard  boys!  what  flimsy 
ecstasies  and  silly  "  smacking  of  hps  "  about  the  "  plo- 
vers !"  Is  this  the  man  who  writes  for  the  next  ao-e  ? 
0  fie !     Here  is  another  joke  : — 

"  Sir  Maurice,     ilice !  zounds,  how  can  I 
Keep  mice !     I  can't  afford  it !    They  were  starved 
To  death  an  age  ago.     The  last  was  found, 
Come  Christmas  three  years,  stretched  beside  a  bone 
In  that  same  larder,  so  consumed  and  worn 
By  pious  fast,  'twas  awful  to  behold  it ! 
I  canonized  its  corjDse  in  sphits  of  wine, 
And  set  it  in  the  porch — a  solemn  warning 
To  thieves  and  beggars!" 

Is  not  this  rare  wit  ?  "  Zounds  !  how  can  I  keep 
mice  ?"  is  well  enough  for  a  miser ;  not  too  new,  or 
brilliant  either ;  but  this  miserable  dilution  of  a  thin 
joke,  this  wretched  hunting  down  of  the  poor  mouse ! 
It  is  humiliating  to  think  of  a  man  of  espnt  harping  so 
long  on  such  a  mean,  pitiful  string.  A  man  who  as- 
10 


218  THE  TELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 


pires  to  immorLality,  too  !  I  doubt  whether  it  is  to  be 
gained  thus ;  whether  our  author's  words  are  not  too 
loosely  built  to  make  "  starry  pointing  pyramids  of."  Hor- 
ace clipped  and  squared  his  blocks  more  carefully  be 
fore  he  laid  the  monument  which,  imher  edax,  or  Aquila 
impotens,  orfuga  temporurn,  might  assail  in  vain.  Even 
old  Ovid,  when  he  raised  his  stately,  shining  heathen 
temple,  had  placed  some  columns  in  it,  and  hewn  out  a 
statue  or  two  which  deserved  the  immortality  that  he 
prophesied  (somewhat  arrogantly)  for  himself.  But  let 
not  all  be  looking  forward  to  a  future,  and  fancying  that, 
"  incerti  sjpatium  dum  finiat  avi,''^  our  books  are  to  be 
immortal.  Alas !  the  way  to  immortality  is  not  so 
easy,  nor  will  our  Sea  Captain  be  permitted  such  an 
unconscionable  cruise.  If  all  the  immortalities  were  really 
to  have  their  wish,  what  a  work  would  our  descendants 
have  to  study  them  all ! 

Not  yet,  in  my  humble  opinion,  has  the  honourable 
baronet  achieved  this  deathless  consummation.  There 
will  come  a  day  (may  it  be  long  distant !)  when  the  very 
best  of  his  novels  will  be  forgotten ;  and  it  is  reasonable 
to  suppose  that  his  dramas  will  pass  out  of  existence, 
some  time  or  other,  in  the  lapse  of  the  secula  seculorum. 
In  the  mean  time,  my  dear  Plush,  if  you  ask  me  what 
the  great  obstacle  is  towards  the  dramatic  fame  and 
merit  of  om-  friend,  I  would  say  that  it  does  not  lie  so 
much  in  hostile  critics  or  feeble  health,  as  in  a  careless 
habit  of  writing,  and  a  peevish  vanity  which  causes  him 
to  shut  his  eyes  to  his  faults.  The  question  of  original 
capacity  I  will  not  moot ;  one  may  think  very  highly 
of  the  honourable  baronet's  talent,  without  rating  it 
quite  so  high  as  he  seems  disposed  to  do. 


EPISTLES    TO    THE    LITERATI.  21S 

And  to  conclude  :  as  lie  lias  cliosen  to  combat  ttie 
critics  in  person,  the  critics  are  surely  justified  in  being 
allowed  to  address  him  directly. 

With  best  compliments  to  Mr.  Yellowplush, 
I  have  the  honour  to  be,  dear  Sir, 
Your  most  faithful  and  obliged 
humble  servant, 

John  Thomas  Smith, 

And  now,  Smith  having  finisht  his  letter,  I  think  I 
can't  do  better  than  clothes  mine  Hckwise ;  for  though 
I  should  never  be  tired  of  talking,  praps  the  pubhc  may 
of  healing,  and  therefore  it's  best  to  shut  up  shopp. 

What  I've  said,  respected  Barnit,  I  hoap  you  woan't 
take  unkind.  A  play,  you  see,  is  public  property  for 
every  one  to  say  his  say  on ;  and  I  think,  if  you  read 
your  prefez  over  agin,  you'll  see  that  it  ax  as  a  direct 
incouridoremint  to  us  critix  to  come  forrard  and  notice 
you.  But  don't  fansy,  I  besitch  you,  that  we  are  actia- 
ted  by  hostillaty  ;  fust  write  a  good  play,  and  you'll  see 
we'll  prays  if  fast  enuff.  Waiting  which,  Agray,  Mun- 
seer  le  Chevaleer,  Vashurance  de  mo.  hot  cumsideratun. 

Voter  distangy, 
Y. 


THE    END. 


APPLETONS'  POPULAR  LIBPvARY 

OF  THE  BEST  AUTHORS. 


JEAMES'S  DIARY— A  LEGEXD  OF  THE  RHINE- 
REBECCA  AXD  ROWEXA. 


BOOKS   BY   THACKERAY. 


JUST  PXJBLISHED  IN  THia  SERIES, 

THE  LUCK  OF  BAEEY  LYNDON :   a  Romance  of  the  Last 
Century.     2  vols.  16mo.    $1. 

CONFESSIONS  OF  FITZ  BOODLE  AND  MAJOK  GAHA- 
GAN.    1  vol.  16mo.    50  cents. 

MEN  S  WIVES.    1vol.  lOmo.     50  cents. 

A  SHABBY  GENTEEL  STORY,  AND  OTHER  TALES.    1  vol. 
16mo.    50  cents. 

A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE ;  REBECCA  AND  ROWENA, 
and  other  Tales  (just  ready).     1  vol.  16mo.    50  cents. 

THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.    1  vol.  16mo.    50  cents. 

THE  PARIS  SKETCH  BOOK.    2  vols.  16mo.    $1. 

THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS.    1  vol.  16mo.    50  cents. 


JEAMES'S  DIAKY, 


A  LEGEND    OF    THE    RHIXB, 


AND 


EEBECCA  AXD  EOWENA. 


BY 


W.  M.  THACKERAY, 

AUTHOR   OF    "VANTTT   F.UR,"    "MR.  BROWn's   LETTERS   TO    A    YOUNG 
MAN    ABOUT   TOWX,"    ETC. 


NEW-YORK : 
D.  APPLETON  &  COMPANY,  200  BPvOADWAY. 

1853. 


CONTENTS. 

Jeames's  Diary,      .  .  .  ,        7 

A  Legend  of  the  Rhine,  .  .  .91 

Rebecca  and  Rowena,      .....     195 


JEAMES'S    DIAET. 


J  E  AMES'S     DIAPiY. 

A  TALE  OF  1845. 


A   LUCKY    SPECULATOR. 

"  Co'SiDERABLE  sensation  has  been  excited  in  the  upper  and  lower 
circles  in  the  West  End,  by  a  startling  piece  of  good  fonnne  which  has 
befallen  James  Plush,  Esq.,  lately  footman  In  a  respected  family  in 
Berkeley  Square. 

"One  day  last  week,  Mr.  James  waited  upon  his  master,  who  is  a 
banker  in  the  City  ;  and  after  a  little  blushing  and  hesitation,  said  he  had 
saved  a  little  money  in  the  service,  was  anxious  to  retire,  and  to  invest  his 
savings  to  advantage. 

"  His  master  (we  believe  we  may  mention,  without  offending  delicacy, 
the  well-known  name  of  Sir  George  Flimsy,  of  the  house  of  Flimsy, 
DiDDLER  &  Flash)  smilingly  asked  Me.  James  what  was  the  amount 
of  his  savings :  wondering  considerably  how,  out  of  an  income  of  thirty 
guineas— the  main  part  of  which  he  spent  in  bouquets,  silk  stockings,  and 
perfumery— Mr.  Plush  could  have  managed  to  lay  by  anything. 

"  Mr.  Plush,  with  some  hesitation,  said  he  had  been  speculating  in 
railroads,  and  stated  his  winnings  to  have  been  thirty  thousand  pounds. 
He  had  commenced  his  speculations  with  twenty,  borrowed  from  a  fellow- 
servant.  He  had  dated  his  letters  from  the  house  in  Berkeley  Square,  and 
humbly  begged  pardon  of  his  master  for  not  having  instructed  the  Eailway 
Secretaries  who  answered  his  applications  to  apply  at  the  area-bell. 

"  Sir  G-eoege,  who  was  at  breakfast,  instantly  rose,  and  shook  Mr.  P. 
by  the  hand ;  Lady  Flimsy  begged  him  to  be  seated,  and  partake  of  the 
breakfast  which  he  had  laid  on  the  table ;  and  has  subsequently  invited 
him  to  her  grand  dejeuner  at  Eichmond,  where  it  was  observed  that  Miss 
Emily  Flimsy,  her  beautiful  and  accomplished  seventh  daughter,  paid  the 
Incky  gentleman  marked  attention. 
1 


10 

"  "We  bear  it  stated  that  Mr.  P.  is  of  a  very  ancient  family  (Hugo  de  la 
Pluche  came  over  with  the  Conqueror) ;  and  the  new  Brougham  which 
he  has  started,  bears  the  ancient  coat  of  his  race. 

"  He  has  taken  apartments  in  the  Albany,  and  is  a  director  of  thirty- 
three  railroads.  He  purposes  to  stand  for  Parliament  at  the  next  general 
election,  on  decidedly  conservative  principles,  which  have  always  been  the 
politics  of  his  family. 

"  Report  says,  that  even  in  his  humble  capacity  Miss  Emily  Flimsy  had 
remarked  his  high  demeanour.  "Well, '  none  but  the  brave,'  say  we, '  deserve 
tlie  fair,'  " — Morming  Paper, 


This  announcement  will  explain  the  following 
lines,  which  have  been  put  into  our  box  with  a  West- 
End  post-mark.  If,  as  we  believe,  they  are  written 
by  the  young  woman  from  whom  the  Millionnaire 
borrowed  the  sum  on  which  he  raised  his  fortune, 
what  heart  will  not  melt  with  sympathy  at  her  tale, 
and  pity  the  sorrows  which  she  expresses  in  such  art- 
less language  % 

If  it  be  not  too  late  ;  if  wealth  have  not  rendered 
its  possessor  callous ;  if  poor  Maryanne  he  still  alive ; 
we  trust,  we  trust,  Mr.  Plush  will  do  her  justice. 


JEAMES    OF    BUCKLEY    SQUAKE. 
A    HELIGY. 

Come  all  ye  gents  vot  cleans  the  plate, 
Come  all  ye  ladies'  maids  so  fair — 

Vile  I  a  story  vil  relate 

Of  cruel  Jeam.es  of  Buckley  Square. 


JEAMES'S    DIARY.  11 


A  tighter  lad,  it  is  confest, 

Neer  valked  vith  powder  in  his  air, 

Or  vore  a  nosegay  in  his  breast, 

Than  andsum  Jeames  of  Buckley  Square. 

0  Evns  !  it  vas  the  best  of  sights. 

Behind  his  Master's  coach  and  pair. 
To  see  our  Jeames  in  red  plush  tights, 

A  driving  hoff  from  Buckley  Square. 
He  vel  became  his  hagwiletts, 

He  cocked  his  at  with  such  a  hair  ; 
His  calves  and  viskers  vas  such  pets, 

That  hall  loved  Jeames  of  Buckley  Square. 

He  pleased  the  hup-stairs  folks  as  veil. 

And  0  !  I  vithered  vith  despair, 
Misses  voiild  ring  the  parler  bell, 

And  call  up  Jeames  in  Buckley  Square. 
Both  beer  and  sperrits  he  abhord, 

(Sperrits  and  beer  I  can't  a  bear,) 
You  would  have  thought  he  vas  a  lord 

Down  in  our  All  in  Buckley  Square. 

Last  year  he  visper'd  "  Mary  Hann, 
Yen  I  've  an  under'd  pound  to  spare. 

To  take  a  public  is  my  plan, 

And  leave  this  hojous  Buckley  Square." 


12  JEAMES'S    DIARY. 


0  how  my  gentle  heart  did  bound, 
To  think  that  I  his  name  should  bear. 

"  Dear  Jeames,"  says  I,  "  I  've  twenty  pound," 
And  gev  them  him  in  Buckley  Square. 

Our  master  vas  a  City  gent, 

His  name 's  in  railroads  everywhere  ; 
And  lord,  vot  lots  of  letters  vent 

Betwigst  his  brokers  and  Buckley  Square ! 
My  Jeames  it  was  the  letters  took. 

And  read  'em  all,  (I  think  it's  fair,) 
And  took  a  leaf  from  Master's  book, 

As  hothers  do  in  Buckley  Square. 

Encouraged  with  my  twenty  pound. 

Of  which  poor  I  was  unavare, 
He  wrote  the  Companies  all  round, 

And  signed  hisself  from  Buckley  Square. 
And  how  John  Porter  used  to  grin, 

As  day  by  day,  share  after  share, 
Came  railvay  letters  pouring  in, 

"J.  Plush,  Esquire,  in  Buckley  Square." 

Our  servants'  All  was  in  a  rage — 

Scrip,  stock,  curves,  gradients,  bull  and  bear, 
Vith  butler,  coachman,  groom  and  page, 

Vas  all  the  talk  in  Buckley  Square. 


13 


But  0  !  imagine  vat  I  felt 

Last  Vensdy  veek  as  ever  were ; 

I  gits  a  letter,  which  I  spelt 

"  Mis  M.  a.  Hoggins,  Buckley  Square." 

He  sent  me  back  my  money  true — 

He  sent  me  back  my  lock  of  air, 
And  said,  "  My  dear,  I  bid  ajew 

To  Mary  Hann  and  Buckley  Square. 
Think  not  to  marry,  foolish  Hann, 

With  people  who  your  betters  are ; 
James  Plush  is  now  a  gentleman, 

And  you — a  cook  in  Buckley  Square. 

"  I've  thirty  thousand  guineas  won, 

In  six  short  months,  by  genus  rare ; 
You  little  thought  what  Jeames  was  on, 

Poor  Mary  Hann,  in  Buckley  Square. 
I've  thirty  thousand  guineas  net. 

Powder  and  plush  I  scorn  to  vear ; 
And  so,  Miss  Mary  Ann,  forget 

For  hever  Jeames,  of  Buckley  Square." 


The  rest  of  the  MS.  is  illegible,  being  literally 
washed  away  in  a  flood  of  tears. 


14  JE Ames's  diary. 


A  LETTER  FROM  "jEAMES,  OF  BUCKLEY  SQUARE.'* 

Albany,  Letter  X.,  August  10,  1845. 

"  Sir  : — Has  a  reglar  suscriber  to  your  emusing 
paper,  I  beg  leaf  to  state  that  I  should  never  have 
done  so,  had  I  supposed  that  it  was  your  abbit  to 
igspose  the  mistaries  of  privit  life,  and  to  hinger  the 
delligit  feelings  of  umble  individyouals  like  myself, 
who  have  no  ideer  of  being  made  the  subject  of 
newspaper  criticism. 

"  I  elude,  Sir,  to  the  unjustafiable  use  which  has 
been  made  of  my  name  in  your  Journal,  where  both 
my  muccantile  speclations  and  the  hinmost  pashsn 
of  my  art  have  been  brot  forrards  in  a  ridicklus 
way  for  the  public  emusemint. 

"  What  call.  Sir,  has  the  public  to  inquire  into 
the  suckmstancies  of  my  engagements  with  Miss 
Mary  Hann  Oggins,  or  to  meddle  with  their  rup- 
sher  ?  Why  am  I  to  be  maid  the  hobjick  of  your 
redicule  in  a  doggril  ballit  impewted  to  her  !  I  say 
impewted^  because  in  7ny  time  at  least  Mary  Hann 
could  only  sign  her  -|-  mark  (has  I've  hoften  witnist 
it  for  her  when  she  paid  hin  at  the  Savings  Bank) 
and  has  for  sacraficing  to  the  Mewses  and  making 
poatry^  she  was  as  hincapible  as  Mr.  Wakley  him- 
self. 


JEAMES'S    DIARY.  15 


"  With  respect  to  the  ballit,  my  baleaf  is,  that  it 
is  wrote  by  a  footman  in  a  low  famly,  a  pore  retch 
who  attempted  to  rivle  me  in  my  affections  to  Mary 
Hann — a  feller  not  five  foot  six,  and  with  no  more 
calves  to  his  legs  than  a  donkey — who  was  always  a 
ritin  (having  been  a  doctors  boy)  and  who  I  nockt 
down  with  a  pint  of  porter  (as  he  well  recklex)  at  the 
3  Tuns  Jerming  Street,  for  daring  to  try  to  make  a 
but  of  me.  He  has  signed  Miss  H's  name  to  his 
nonsince  and  lies :  and  you  lay  yourself  hopen  to  a 
haction  for  lible  for  insutting  them  in  your  paper. 

"  It  is  false  that  I  have  treated  Miss  H.  hill  in 
hany  way.  That  I  borrowed  201b  of  her  is  trew. 
But  she  confesses  I  paid  it  back.  Can  hall  people 
say  as  much  of  the  money  they've  lent  or  borrowed  % 
No.  And  I  not  only  paid  it  back  :  but  giv  her  the 
andsomest  pres'nts  which  I  nevei'  should  have  eluded 
to^  but  for  this  attack.  Fust,  a  silver  thimble  (which 
I  found  in  Missus's  work-box) ;  secknd,  a  vollom  of 
Byrom's  poems  :  third,  I  halways  brought  her  a  glass 
of  Curasore,  when  we  ad  a  party,  of  which  she  was 
remarkable  fond.  I  treated  her  to  Hashley's  twice 
(and  halways  a  srimp  or  a  hoyster  by  the  way),  and 
a  thowsnd  deligit  attentions^  which  I  sapose  count 
for  nothink. 

"  Has  for  marridge.  Haltered  suckmstancies  ren- 
dered it  himpossable.  I  was  gone  into  a  new  spear 
of  life — mingling  with  my  native  aristoxy.    I  breathe 


16  JEAMES'S    DIARY. 


no  sallible  of  blame  agiiist  Miss  H.,  but  his  a  hillit- 
erit  cookmaid  fit  to  set  at  a  fashnable  table?  Do 
j^oung  fellers  of  rank  genrally  marry  out  of  the 
Kitching?  If  we  cast  our  i's  upon  a  low-born  gal, 
I  needn  say  its  only  a  tempory  distraction,  pore  passy 
le  tong.  So  much  for  her  claims  upon  me.  Has  for 
that  beest  of  a  Doctor^s  hoy^  he's  unwuthy  the  notas 
of  a  G-entleman. 

"  That  I've  one  thirty  thousand  lb,  and  praps 
more^  I  dont  deny.  Ow  much  has  the  Kilossus  of 
Railroads  one,  I  should  like  to  know,  and  what  was 
his  cappitle  ?  I  hentered  the  market  with  SOlb, 
specklated  Jewdicious,  and  ham  what  I  ham.  So 
may  you  be  (if  you  have  201b,  and  praps  you  haven't) 
— So  may  yoa  be  :  if  you  choose  to  go  in  &  win. 

"  I  for  ray  part  am  jusly  prowd  of  my  suxess,  and 
could  give  you  a  hundred  instances  of  my  gratatude. 
For  igsample,  the  fust  pair  of  bosses  I  bought  (and  a 
better  pair  of  steppers  I  dafy  you  to  see  in  hany  cur- 
ricle), I  crisn'd  Hull  and  Selby,  in  grateful  elusion 
to  my  transackshns  in  that  railroad.  My  riding  Cob 
I  called  very  unhaptly  my  Dublin  and  Galway.  He 
came  down  with  me  the  other  day,  and  I've  jest  sold 
him  at  \  discount. 

"  At  fust  with  prudence  and  modration  I  only 
kep  two  grooms  for  my  stables,  one  of  whom  lickwise 
waited  on  me  at  table.  I  have  now  a  confidenshle 
servant,  a  vally  de  shamber — He  curls  my  air  ;   inspex 


JEAMES'S    DIARY.  17 


my  accounts,  and  hansers  my  hinvitations  to  dinner. 
I  call  this  Vally  my  Trent  Vally^  for  it  was  the 
prophit  I  got  from  that  exlent  line,  which  injuiced 
me  to  ingage  him. 

'-'  Besides  my  Xorth  British  plate  and  breakfast 
equipidge — I  have  two  handsom  suvvices  for  dinner 
— the  goold  plate  for  Sundays,  and  the  silver  for 
common  use.  When  I  ave  a  great  party,  •  Trent,' 
I  say  to  my  man,  '  we  will  have  the  London  and 
Bummingham  plate  to  day  (the  goold),  or  else  the 
Manchester  and  Leeds  (the  silver).'  I  bought  them 
after  realizing  on  the  abuf  lines,  and  if  people  sup- 
pose that  the  companys  made  me  a  presnt  of  the 
plate,  how  can  I  help  it  ? 

"'  In  the  sam  way  I  say,  '  Trent,  bring  us  a  bottle 
of  Bristol  and  Hexeter ! '  or, '  Put  some  Heastern 
Counties  in  hice  ! '  He  knows  what  I  mean  :  it's  the 
wines  I  bought  upon  the  hospicious  tummination  of 
my  connexshn  with  those  two  railroads. 

'•  So  strong  indeed  as  this  abbit  become,  that 
being  asked  to  stand  Godfather  to  the  youngest  Miss 
Diddle  last  weak,  I  had  her  crisn'd  (provisionally) 
Kosamell — from  the  French  line  of  which  I  am  Di- 
rector :  and  only  the  other  day,  finding  myself  ray- 
ther  unwell,  '  Doctor,'  says  I  to  Sm  Jea3ies  Clark, 
'  I've  sent  to  consult  you  because  my  Midlands  are 
out  of  border :  and  I  want  you  to  send  them  up  to  a 


JEAMES  S    DIARY, 


premium.'     The  Doctor  lafd,  and  I  beleave  told  the 
story  siibsquintly  at  Buckinum  P — 11 — s. 

"  But  I  will  trouble  you  no  father.  My  sole 
objict  in  writing  has  been  to  clear  "my  carrater — to 
show  that  I  came  by  my  money  in  a  honrable  way  : 
that  I'm  not  ashaymd  of  the  manner  in  which  I  gaynd 
it,  and  ham  indeed  grateful  for  my  good  fortune. 

'•  To  conclude,  I  have  ad  my  podigree  maid  out 
at  the  Erald  Hoffis  (I  don't  mean  the  Morning 
Erakl)^  and  have  took  for  my  arms  a  Stagg.  You 
are  corrict  in  stating  that  I  am  of  hancient  Normin 
famly.  This  is  more  than  Peal  can  say,  to  whomb 
I  applied  for  a  barnetcy ;  but  the  primmier  being  of 
low  igstraction,  natrally  stickles  for  his  border.  Con- 
survative  though  I  be,  /  f)iay  change  my  opinions 
before  the  next  Election,  when  I  intend  to  hoffer  my- 
self as  a  Candy  dick  for  Parlymint. 

"  Meanwild,  I  have  the  honor  to  be,  Sir, 
"  Your  most  obeajnt  Survnt, 

"  FiTZ- James  de  la  Pluche." 


JEAMES'S       DIARY. 

One  day  in  the  panic  week,  our  friend  Jeame^ 
called  at  our  Office,  evidently  in  great  perturbation 
of  mind  and  disorder  of  dress.  He  had  no  flower  in 
his  button-hole  ;  his  yellow  kid  gloves  were  certainly 
two  days  old.     He  had  not  above  three  of  the  ten 


JEAMES'S    DIARY.  19 


chains  he  usually  sports,  and  his  great  coarse  knotty- 
knuckled  old  hands  were  deprived  of  some  dozen  of 
the  rubies,  emeralds,  and  other  cameos  with  which, 
since  his  elevation  to  fortune,  the  poor  fellow  has 
thought  fit  to  adorn  himself. 

"How's  scrip,  Mr.  Jeames?"  said  we  pleasantly, 
greeting  our  esteemed  contributor. 

"  Scrip  be ,"  replied  he,  with  an  expression 

we  cannot  repeat,  and  a  look  of  agony  it  is  impossible 
to  describe  in  print,  and  walked  about  the  parlour 
whistling,  humming,  rattling  his  keys  and  coppers, 
and  showing  other  signs  of  agitation.  At  last,  ''  Mr. 
Funch^"^  says  he,  after  a  moment's  hesitation,  "  I 
wish  to  speak  to  you  on  a  pint  of  businiss.  I  wish 
to  be  paid  for  my  contribewtions  to  your  paper. 
Suckmstances  is  haltered  with  me.  I — I — in  a 
word,  can  you  lend  me £  for  the  account  ?" 

He  named  the  sum.  It  was  one  so  great,  that 
we  don't  care  to  mention  it  here  ;  but  on  receiving  a 
cheque  for  the  amount  (on  Messrs.  Pump  and  Ald- 
gate,  our  bankers),  tears  came  into  the  honest  fel- 
low's eyes.  He  squeezed  our  hand  until  he  nearly 
wrung  it  off,  and,  shouting  to  a  cab.  he  plunged  into 
it  at  our  ofl&ce-door,  and  was  off  to  the  city. 

Returning  to  our  study,  we  found  he  had  left  on 
our  table  an  open  pocket  book  ;  of  the  contents  of 
which  (for  the  sake  of  safety)  we  took  an  inventory. 
It   contained : — three   tavern-bills,   paid  ;    a  tailor's 


20  JEAMES'S    DIARY. 


ditto,  unsettled  ;  forty-nine  allotments  in  different 
companies,  twenty-six  thousand  seven  hundred  shares 
in  all,  of  which  the  market  value  we  take,  on  an 
average,  to  be  ^  discount ;  and  in  an  old  bit  of  paper 
tied  with  pink  riband  a  lock  of  chesnut  hair,  with  the 
initials  M.  A.  H. 

In  the  diary  of  the  pocket-book  was  a  Journal, 
jotted  down  by  the  proprietor  from  time  to  time. 
At  first  the  entries  are  insignificant  ;  as,  for  in- 
stance : — "  3rd  January — Our  beer  in  the  Suvnts' 
Hall  so  precious  small  at  this  Christmas  time  that  I 
reely  'innss  give  warning,  &  wood,  but  for  my  dear 
Mary  Hann."  "  February  7 — That  broot  Screw, 
the  Butler,  wanted  to  kis  her,  but  my  dear  Mary 
Hann  boxt  his  hold  hears,  &  served  him  right.  / 
datest  Screw," — and  so  forth.  Then  the  diary  re- 
lates to  Stock  Exchange  operations,  until  we  come 
to  the  time  when,  having  achieved  his  successes,  Mr. 
James  quitted  Berkeley  Square  and  his  livery,  and 
began  his  life  as  a  speculator  and  a  gentleman  upon 
town.  It  is  from  the  latter  part  of  his  diary  that  we 
make  the  following 

" EXTRAX : — 

"  Wen  I  anounced  in  the  Servnts  All  my  axeshn 
of  forting,  and  that  by  the  exasize  of  my  own  talince 
and  ingianiuty  I  had  reerlized  a  summ  of  20,000  lb. 


JEAMES'S    DIARY.  21 


(it  was  only  5,  but  what's  the  use  of  a  mann  depre- 
shiating  the  qualaty  of  his  own  mackyrel  ?).  Wen  I 
enounced  my  abrup  intention  to  cut — you  should 
have  sean  the  sensation  among  hall  the  people  ! 
Cook  wanted  to  know  whether  I  woodn  like  a  sweat- 
bred,  or  the  slise  of  the  brest  of  a  Cold  Tucky. 
Screw,  the  butler,  (womb  I  always  detested  as  a 
hinsalant  hoverbaring  beest,)  begged  me  to  walk  in 
to  the  Hupper  Servnts  All,  and  try  a  glass  of  Shu- 
perior  Shatto  Margo.  Heven  Yisp,  the  coachmin, 
eld  out  his  and,  &  said,  '•  Jeames,  I  hopes  theres  no 
quarraling  betwigst  you  &  me,  &  I'll  stand  a  pot 
of  beer  with  pleasure." 

"  The  sickofnts  !— that  wery  Cook  had  split  on 
me  to  the  Housekeeper  ony  last  week  (catchin  me 
priggin  some  cold  tuttle  soop,  of  which  I'm  remarka- 
ble fond).  Has  for  the  Butler,  I  always  ehommi- 
nated  him  for  his  precious  snears  and  imperence  to 
all  us  Gents  who  woar  livry.  (he  never  would  sit  in 
our  parlour,  fasooth,  nor  drink  out  of  our  mugs ;) 
and  in  regard  of  Yisp — why,  it  was  ony  the  day  be- 
fore the  wulgar  beest  hoffered  to  fite  me,  and  thretnd 
to  give  me  a  good  iding  if  I  refused.  '  G-entlemen  and 
ladies,'  says  I,  as  haughty  as  may  be, '  there 's  nothink 
that  I  want  for  that  I  can't  go  for  to  buy  with  my 
hown  money,  and  take  at  my  lodgins  in  Halbany,  let- 
ter Hex  ;  if  I  'm  ungry  I  've  no  need  to  refresh  my- 
self in  the  hitching?     And,  so  saying,  I  took  a  digna* 


22  JEAMES'S    DIARY. 


fied  ajew  of  these  minnial  domestics  ;  and  ascending 
to  my  epartment  in  the  4  pair  back,  brushed  the  pow- 
der out  of  my  air,  and,  taking  hoff  those  hojous  liv- 
ries  for  hever,  put  on  a  new  soot,  made  for  me  by 
CuLLiN,  of  St.  Jeames  Street,  and  which  fitted  my 
manly  figger  as  tight  as  whacks. 

"  There  was  one  pusson  in  the  house  with  womb 
I  was  rayther  anxious  to  evoid  a  persnal  leave-taking 
— Mary  Hann  Oggins,  I  mean — for  my  art  is  natu- 
ral tender,  and  I  can't  abide  seeing  a  pore  gal  in 
pane.  I  'd  given  her  previous  the  infamation  of  my 
departure — doing  the  ansom  thing  by  her  at  the 
same  time — paying  her  back  201b.,  which  she'd  lent 
me  6  months  before  ;  and  paying  her  back  not  ony 
the  interest,  but  I  gave  her  an  andsorae  pair  of  scis- 
sars  and  a  silver  thimbil,  by  way  of  boanus.  '  Mary 
Hann,'  says  I,  '  suckimstancies  has  haltered  our  rel- 
latif  positions  in  life.  I  quit  the  Servnts'  Hall  for 
hever,  (for  has  for  your  marrying  a  person  in  my 
rank,  that  my  dear  is  hall  gammin,)  and  so  I  wish 
you  a  good  by  my  good  gal,  and  if  you  want  to  bet- 
ter yourself,  halways  refer  to  me.' 

"  Mary  Hann  didn't  hanser  my  speech,  (which 
I  think  was  remarkable  kind.)  but  looked  at  me  in 
the  face  quite  wild  like,  and  bust  into  somethink  be- 
twigst  a  laugh  and  a  cry,  and  fell  down  with  her  ed 
on  the  kitching  dresser,  where  she  lay  until  her 
young  Missis  rang  the  dressing-room  bell.     Would 


JEAMES'S    DIARY.  23 


you  bleave  it  ?  she  left  the  thimbil  &  things.  &  my 
check  for  201b.  10s  on  the  tabil,  when  she  went  to 
hanser  the  bell  ?  And  now  I  heard  her  sobbing  and 
vimpering  in  her  own  room  nex  but  one  to  mine,  with 
the  dore  open,  peraps  expecting  I  should  come  in 
and  say  good  by.  But,  as  soon  as  I  was  dressed,  I 
cut  down  stairs,  hony  desiring  Frederick  my  fellow- 
servnt,  to  fetch  me  a  cabb,  and  requesting  permis- 
sion to  take  leaf  of  my  lady  &  the  famly  before  my 

departure." 

#  *  *  *  * 

"  How  Miss  Hemly  did  hogle  me  to  be  sure  ! 
Her  ladyship  told  me  what  a  sweet  gal  she  was — 
hamiable,  fond  of  poetry,  plays  the  gitter.  Then  she 
hasked  me  if  I  liked  blond  bewties  and  haubin  hair. 
Haubin.  indeed !  I  don't  like  carrits  !  as  it  must  be 
confest  Miss  Hemly's  his — and  has  for  a  blond  huty 
she  as  pink  I's  like  a  Halbino,  and  her  face  looks  as 
if  it  were  dipt  in  a  brann  mash.  How  she  squeeged 
my  &  as  she  went  away  ! 

"  Mary  Hann  now  has  haubin  air,  and  a  cum- 
plexion  like  rose^  and  hivory,  and  I's  as  blew  as 
Evin. 

"  I  gev  Frederick  two  and  six  for  fetchin  the 
cabb — been  resolved  to  hact  the  gentleman  in  hall 
things.     How  he  stared  !" 


24  JEAMES'S    DIARY. 


^'•2bth. — I  am  now  director  of  forty-seven  had- 
vantageous  lines,  and  have  past  hall  day  in  the  Citty. 
Although  I  've  hate  or  nine  new  soots  of  close,  and 
Mr.  Cullin  fitts  me  heligant,  yet  I  fansy  they  hall 
reckonise  me.  Conshns  wispers  to  me — '  Jeams. 
you'r  hony  a  footman  in  disguise  hafter  all.'  " 


"  2^th. — Been  to  the  Hopra.  Music  tol  lol. 
That  Lablash  is  a  wopper  at  singing.  I  coodn 
make  out  why  some  people  called  out  '  Bravo,'  some 
'  Bravar,'  and  some  '  Bravee.'  '  Bravee,  Lablash,' 
says  I,  at  which  hevery  body  laft. 

"  I  'm  in  my  new  stall.  I  've  add  new  cushings 
put  in,  and  my  harms  in  goold  on  the  back.  I  'm 
dressed  hall  in  black,  excep  a  gold  waistcoat  and  di- 
mind  studds  in  the  embriderd  busom  of  my  shameese. 
I  wear  a  Camallia  Jiponiky  in  my  button  ole,  and 
have  a  double-barreld  opera  glas.  so  big,  that  I  make 
Timmins,  my  secnd  man,  bring  it  in  the  other  cabb. 

"  What  an  igstronry  exabishn  that  Pawdy  Carter 
is  !  If  those  four  gals  are  faries,  Tellioni  is  sutnly 
the  fairy  Queend.  She  can  do  all  that  they  can  do, 
and  somethink  they  can't.  There's  an  indiscrible 
grace  about  her,  and  Carlotty,  my  sweet  Carlotty, 
she  sets  my  art  in  flams. 

"  Ow  that  Miss  Hemly  was  noddin  and  winkin 
at  me  out  of  their  box  on  the  fourth  tear  ? 


JEAMES'S    DIARY.  25 


"  What  liux  i's  she  must  av.  As  if  I  could 
mount  up  there  ! 

"  P.  S.  Talking  of  mounting  hup  !  the  St. 
Helena's  walked  up  4  per  cent  this  very  day." 


"  2d  July.  Rode  my  bay  oss  Desperation  in  the 
park.  There  was  me,  Lord  George  Etngwood 
(Lord  Cinqbar's  son),  Lord  Ballybunnion,  Hon- 
orable Capting  Trap,  &  sevral  hother  young 
swells.  Sip^  John's  carridge  there  in  coarse.  Miss 
Hemly  lets  fall  her  booky  as  I  pass,  and  I  'm  obleged 
to  get  hoff  and  pick  it  hup,  and  get  splashed  up  to 
the  his.  The  gettin  on  boss  back  agin  is  halways  the 
juice  and  hall.  Just  aa  I  was  hon.  Desperation  be- 
gins a  porring  the  hair  with  his  4  feet,  and  sinks 
down  so  on  his  anches,  that  I  'm  blest  if  I  didn't 
slipp  hoff  agin  over  his  tail ;  at  which  Ballybun- 
nion &  the  other  chaps  rord  with  lafter. 

"  As  Bally  has  istates  in  Queen's  County,  I  've 
put  him  on  the  Saint  Helena  direction.  We  call  it 
the  'Great  St.  Helena  Napoleon  Junction,'  from 
Jamestown  to  Longwood.'  The  French  are  taking 
it  hup  heagerly." 


"  ^th  July.    Dined  to-day  at  the  London  Tavin 

with  one  of  the  Welsh  bords  of  Direction  I  'm  hon, 
2 


26  JEAMEs'fe    DIARY. 


The  Cwrwmwrw  &  Plmwyddlywm,  with  tunnils 
through  Snowdiug   and   Plinlimming. 

"  Great  nashnallity  of  coarse.  Ap  Shinkin  in 
the  chair,  Ap  Llwydd  in  the  vice  ;  "Welsh  mutton 
for  dinner  ;  Welsh  iron  knives  &  forks  ;  Welsh  rab- 
bit after  dinner  ;  and  a  Welsh  harper,  be  hanged  to 
him  ;  he  went  strum  mint  on  his  hojous  instrument, 
and  played  a  toon  piguliarly  disagreeble  to  me. 

"  It  was  Fore  Mary  Hann.  The  clarrit  holmost 
choaked  me  as  I  tried  it,  and  I  very  nearly  wep  my- 
self as  I  thought  of  her  bewtifle  blue  i's.  Why  hmn 
I  always  thinkin  about  that  gal  ?  Sasiaty  is  sasiaty, 
it's  lors  is  irresistabl.  Has  a  man  of  rank  I  can't 
marry  a  serving-made.  What  would  Cinqbar  & 
Ballybunnion  say  % 

P.  S. — I  don't  like  the  way  that  Cingbars  has 
of  borroing  money,  &  halways  making  me  pay  the 
bill.  Seven  pound  six  at  the  Shipp,  Grinnidge, 
which  I  don't  grudge  it,  for  Derbyshire's  brown 
Ock  is  the  best  in  Urup ;  nine  pound  three  at  the 
Trafflygar,  and  seventeen  pound  sixteen  and  nine  at 
the  Star  &  Garter,  Richmond,  with  the  Countess 
St.  Emilion  &  the  Baroness  Frontignac.  Not  one 
word  of  French  could  I  speak,  and  in  consquince  had 
nothink  to  do  but  to  make  myself  halmost  sick  with 
heating  ices  and  desert,  while  the  bothers  were  chat- 
tering &  parlyvooing. 

"  Ha  !  I  remember  going  to  Grinnidge  once  with 


JEAMES'S    DIARY.  27 


Mary  HA^"N,  wlien  we  were  more  liappy,  (after  a 
walk  in  the  park,  where  we  acl  oue  giugy-beer  be- 
twigst  us.)  more  appy  with  tea  and  a  simple  srimp 
than  with  hall  this  splender  ! '' 


"  July  24.  My  first  floor  apartmince  in  the  Hal- 
biny  is  now  kimpletely  and  chasely  funnished — the 
droring-room  with  yellow  satting  and  silver  for  the 
chairs  and  sophies — hemrall  green  tabbinet  curtings 
with  pink  velvet  &  goold  borders  &  fringes ;  a  light 
blue  Haxminster  Carpit.  embroydered  with  tulips ; 
tables,  secritaires.cunsoles,  &c.,  as  handsome  as  goold 
can  make  them,  and  candlesticks  and  shandalers  of 
the  purest  Hormolew. 

'•  The  Dining-room  funniture  is  all  lioalc,  British 
Hoak ;  round  igspanding  table,  like  a  trick  in  a  Pan- 
timime,  iccommadating  any  number  from  8  to  24 — to 
which  it  is  my  wish  to  restrict  my  parties — Curtings 
Crimsing  damask,  Chairs  crimsing  myrocky.  Por- 
tricks  of  my  favorite  great  men  decorats  the  wall — 
namely,  the  Duke  of  Wellington.  There's  four  of 
his  Grace.  For  Ive  remarked  that  if  you  wish  to 
pass  for  a  man  of  weight  &  considdration  you  should 
holways  praise  and  quote  him — I  have  a  valluble  one 
lickwise  of  my  Queend,  and  2  of  Prince  Halbert — 
as  a  Field  Martial  and  halso  as  a  privat  Grent.  I 
despise   the  vulgar   snears   that    are   daily  hullered 


28  JEAMES'S    DIARY. 


aginst  that  Igsolted  Pottentat.     Betwigxt  the  Prins 

6  the  Duke  hangs  me,  in  the  Uniform  of  the  Cinqbar 
Malitia,  of  which  Cinqbars  has  made  me  Capting. 

"  The  Libery  is  not  yet  done. 

"  But  the  Bedd-roomb  is  the  Jem  of  the  whole 
— if  you  could  but  see  it!  such  a  Bedworr  !  Ive  a 
Shyval  Dressing  Glass  festooned  with  Walanseens 
Lace,  and  lighted  up  of  evenings  with  rose  coloured 
tapers.  Goold  dressing  case  and  twilet  of  Dresding 
Cheny — My  bed  white  and  gold  with  curtings  of  pink 
and  silver  brocayd  held  up  at  top  by  a  goold  Qpid 
who  seems  always  a  smiling  angillicly  hon  me,  has  I 
lay  with  my  Ed  on  my  piller  hall  sarounded  with  the 
finst  Mechlin.  I  have  a  own  man,  a  yuth  under 
him,  2  groombs,  and  a  fimmale  for  the  House — I'  ve 

7  osses :  in  cors  if  I  hunt  this  winter  I  must  increase 
my  ixtablishment. 

"  N.B.  Heverythink  looking  well  in  the  City. 
Saint  Helenas,  12  pm.,  Madagascars,  9|,  Saffron 
Hill  &  Rookery  Junction,  24,  and  the  nejsv  lines  in 
prospick  equily  incouraging. 


"  People  phansy  its  hall  gaiety  and  pleasure  the 
life  of  us  fashnabble  gents  about  townd — But  I  can 
tell  'em  its  not  hall  goold  that  glitters.  They  don't 
know  our  momints  of  hagony — hour  ours  of  studdy 
and  reflecshun.      They   little  think   when   they  see 


JEAMES'S    DIARY.  29 


Jeames  de  la  Pluche,  Exquire,  worling  round  in 
walce  at  Halmax  with  Lady  Hanx,  or  lazaly  stepping 
a  kidrill  with  Lady  Jane,  poring  helegant  nothinx 
into  the  Countess's  hear  at  dinner,  or  gallopin  his 
hoss  Desperation  hover  the  exorcisin  ground  in  the 
Park, — they  little  think  that  leader  of  the  tong.  sea- 
minkly  so  rickliss,  is  a  careworn  mann  !  and  yet  so 
it  is. 

"  Imprymus.  I  've  been  ableged  to  get  up  all 
the  ecomplishments  at  double  quick,  &  to  apply  my- 
self with  treemenjuous  energy. 

'•  First,  — in  horder  to  give  myself  a  hideer  of 
what  a  gentleman  reely  is — I  've  read  the  novvle  of 
Pelham  six  times,  and  ham  to  go  through  it  4  times 
mor. 

"  I  practis  ridin  and  the  acquirement  of  '  a  steady 
&  a  sure  seat  across  Country'  assijuously  4  times  a 
week,  at  the  Hippydrum  Riding  Grrounds.  Many's 
the  tumbil  I  've  ad,  and  the  aking  boans  I  've  suffered 
from,  though  I  was  grinnin  in  the  Park  or  laffin  at 
the  Opra. 

"  Every  morning  from  6  till  9,  the  innabitance  of 
Halbany  may  have  been  surprised  to  hear  the  sounds 
of  music  ishuing  from  the  apartmince  of  Jeames  de 
la  Pluche,  Exquire,  Letter  Hex.  It 's  my  dancing- 
master.  From  six  to  nine  we  have  walces  and  polkies 
— at  nine  '  mangtiang  &  depotment,'  as  he  calls  it ; 
&  the  manner  of  hentering  a  room,  complimenting 


30 

the  ost  &  ostess  &  compotting  yourself  at  table.  At 
nine  I  henter  from  my  dressing-room  (has  to  a  party), 
I  make  my  bow — my  master  (he 's  a  Marquis  in 
France,  and  ad  misfortins,  being  connected  with 
young  Lewy  Nepoleum)  reseaves  me — I  hadwance 
— speak  abowt  the  weather  &  the  toppix  of  the  day 
in  an  elegant  &  cussory  manner.  Brekfst  is  enounced 
by  FiTzwARREN,  my  mann — we  precede  to  the  festive 
bord — complimence  is  igschanged  with  the  manner 
of  drinking  wind,  adressing  your  neighbour,  employ- 
ing your  napking  &  finger-glas,  &c.  And  then  we 
fall  to  brekfst,  when  I  prommiss  you  the  Marquis 
don't  eat  like  a  commoner.  He  says  I  'm  gotten  on 
very  well — soon  I  shall  be  able  to  inwite  people  to 
brekfst,  like  Mr.  Mills,  my  rivle  in  Halbany ;  Mr. 
Macauly  (who  wrote  that  sweet  book  of  ballets, 
'  The  Lays  of  Hancient  Rum) ;  &  the  great  Mr. 
RoDGERS  himself. 


"  The  above  was  wrote  some  weeks  back.  I  have 
given  brekfsts  sins  then,  reglar  Deshunys.  I  have 
ad  Earls  and  Ycounts — Barnits  as  many  as  I  chose : 
and  the  pick  of  the  Railway  world,  of  which  I  form 
a  member.  Last  Sunday  was  a  grand  Fate.  I  had 
the  Eleet  of  my  friends :  the  display  was  sumtious  ; 
the  company  reshershy.  Everything  that  Dellixy 
could  suggest  was  by  Gtunter  provided.     I  had  a 


JEAMES'S    DIAE.Y.  31 


Countiss  on  mj  right.  &  (the  Countess  of  Wiggles- 
bury,  that  loveliest  and  most  dashing  of  Staggs.  who 
may  be  called    the  Railway  Queend.  as   my  friend 

George   H is  the  Railway   Kin^) — on  my  left 

the  Lady  Blan'che  Bluexose — Prince  Towrowsk[ 
— the  great  Huddlestone  Fuddlestone.  from  the 
North,  and  a  skoar  of  the  fust  of  the  fashn.  I  was 
in  my  gloary.  The  dear  Countess  and  Lady 
Blanche  was  dying  with  laffing  at  my  joax  and  fun. 
I  was  keeping  the  whole  table  in  a  roar — when  there 
came  a  ring  at  m}*  door-bell,  and  suduly  Fitz- 
warren,  my  man.  henters  with  an  air  of  constana- 
tion  :  "  Theres  somebody  at  the  door.''  says  he,  in  a 
visper. 

"'  0,  it's  that  dear  Lady  Hemily,'  says  I.  'and 
that  lazy  raskle  of  a  husband  of  her's.  Trot  them 
in.  Fitzwarren'  (for  you  see.  by  this  time  I  had 
adopted  quite  the  manners  and  hease  of  the  arris- 
toxy). — And  so.  going  out,  with  a  look  of  wonder 
he  returned  presently,  enouncing  Mr.  &  Mrs. 
Blodder. 

•'  I  turned  gashly  pail.  The  table — the  guests — 
the  Countiss — Towrouski.  and  the  rest,  wealed  round 
&  round  before  my  hagitated  I"s.  It  v:o.s  my  Grand- 
raother  and  Huncle  Bill.  She  is  a  washerwoman 
at  Healing  Common,  and  he — he  keeps  a  wegetable 
donkey-cart. 

"  Y,  Y  hadn't  John,  the  tiger,  igscluded  them? 


32  JEAMES'S    DIARY. 


He  had  tried.     But  the  unconscious,  though  worthy 
creeters,  adwanced  in  spite  of  him,  Huncle  Bill 
bringing  in  the  old  lady  grinning  on  his  arm  ! 
"  Phansy  my  feelinx." 


"  Immagin  when  these  unfortnat  members  of  my 
famly  hentered  the  room  :  you  may  phansy  the  ix- 
tonnishment  of  the  nobil  company  presnt.  Old 
Grann  looked  round  the  room  quite  estounded  by 
its  horientle  sj)lender,  and  huncle  Bill  (pulling  hoff 
his  phantail.  *&  seluting  the  company  as  respeckfly 
as  his  wulgar  natur  would  alow)  says — '  Crikey, 
Jeames,  you've  got  a  better  birth  here  than  you  ad 
where  you  were  in  the  plush  and  powder  line.'  '  Try 
a  few  of  them  plovers  hegs,  sir,'  I  says,  wishing,  I'm 
asheamed  to  say,  that  somethink  would  choke  huncle 

B ;  '  and  I  hope,  mam,  now  you've  ad  the  kind- 

niss  to  wisit  me,  a  little  refreshmint  wont  be  out  of 
your  way.' 

"  This  I  said,  detummind  to  put  a  good  fase  on 
the  matter  ;  and  because,  in  herly  times,  I'd  reseaved 
a  great  deal  of  kindniss  from  the  hold  lady,  which  I 
should  be  a  roag  to  forgit.  She  paid  for  my  school- 
ing ;  she  got  up  my  fine  linning  gratis ;  shes  given 
me  many  &  many  a  lb  ;  and  manys  the  time  in  appy 
appy  days  when  me  and  Maryhann  has  taken  tea. 


JEAMES'S    DIARY.  33 


But  never  mind  that.     '  Mam,'  says  I,  •  3'ou  must  be 
tired  hafter  3'our  walk.' 

"  '  Walk  ?  Nonsince,  Jeames,'  says  she  ;  •  its 
Saturday.  &  I  came  in,  in  the  cart?  '  Black  or  green 
tea.  niaam  ? '  says  Fitzwarren,  intarupting  her. 
And  I  will  say  the  feller  showed  his  nouce  &  good 
breeding  in  this  difficklt  momink;  for  he'd  halready 
silenced  huncle  Bill,  whose  mouth  was  now  full  of 
muffinx.  am.  Blowny  sausag,  Perrigole  pie,  and  other 
deliixies. 

'•  "Wouldn't  you  like  a  little  somethink  in  your 
tea.  Mam.,'  says  that  sly  wagg  Cinqbars.    '  He  knows 
what  I  likes,'  replies  the  hawfle  hold  Lady,  pinting 
to  me  (which  I  knew  it  very  well,  having   often  seen 
her  take  a  glas  of  hojous  gin  along  with  her  Bohee), 
and  so   I  was   ableeged  to  border  Fitzwarren  to 
bring  round  the  licures,  and  to  help  my  unfortint 
rellatif  to  a  bumper  of  OUands.     She  tost  it  hoff  to 
the  elth  of  the  company,  giving  a  smack  with  her 
lipps  after  she'd  emtied  the  glas,  which  very  nearly 
caused  me  to  phaint  with  hagny.     But,  luckaly  for 
me.   She  didn't  igspose   herself  much   farther  :    for 
when  Cinqbars  was  pressing  her  to  take  another  glas, 
I  cried  out,  '  Don't,  my  lord  ! '   on  which  old  Grann, 
hearing  him  edressed  by  his  title,  cried  out, '  A  Lord  ! 
o,  law  ! '  and  got  up  and  made  him  a  cutsy,  and  coodnt 
be  peswaded  to  speak  another  word.     The  presents 
of  the  noble  gent,  heavidently  made  her  uneezy. 


34  JEAMES'S    DIARY. 


••  The  Countiss  on  my  right  and  had  shownt 
«ymtms  of  ixtream  disgust  at  the  beayviour  of  my 
relations,  and,  having  called  for  her  carridge.  got  up 
to  leave  the  room,  with  the  most  dignified  hair.  I, 
of  coarse,  rose  to  conduct  her  to  her  weakle.  Ah, 
what  a  contrast  it  was  !  There  it  stood,  with  stars 
and  garters  hall  hover  the  pannels ;  the  footmin  in 
peach-coloured  tites ;  the  hosses  worth  3  hundred 
a-peace ; — and  there  stood  the  horrid  linnen-cart^ 
with  '  Mary  Blodder,  Laundress,  Ealing,  Middle- 
sex,' wrote  on  the  bord,  and  waiting  until  my  aban- 
dind  old  parint  should  come  out. 

"  CiNQBARS  insisted  upon  helping  her  in.  Sir 
HuDDLESTON  FuDDLESTONE,  the  great  barnet  from 
the  North,  who,  great  as  he  is,  is  as  stewpid  as  a 
howl,  looked  on,  hardly  trusting  his  goggle  I's  as 
they  witnessed  the  Sean.  But  little  lively  good 
naterd  Lady  Kitty  Quickset,  who  was  going  away 
with  the  Countiss,  held  her  little  «&  out  of  the 
carridge  to  me  and  said,  '  Mr.  de  la  Pluche,  you 
are  a  much  better  man  than  I  took  you  to  be. 
Though  her  Ladyship  is  horrified,  and  though  your 
G-randmother  did  take  gin  for  breakfast,  don't  give 
her  up.  No  one  ever  came  to  barm  yet  for  honoring 
their  father  &  mother.' 

"  And  this  was  a  sort  of  consolation  to  me.  and  I 
observed  that  at  all  the  good  fellers  thought  none 
the  wuss  of  me.     Cinqbars  said  I  was  a  trump  for 


35 

sticking  up  for  the  old  washerwoman  ;  Lord  George 
Gills  said  she  should  have  his  linning ;  and  so  they 
cut  their  joax,  and  I  let  them.  But  it  was  a  great 
relcaf  to  my  mi»d  when  the  cart  drove  hoff. 

"  There  was  one  pint  which  my  Grandmother 
observed,  and  which,  I  muss  say,  I  thought  lickwise; 
*  Ho,  Jeames,'  says  she,  '  hall  those  fine  ladies  in 
sattns  and  velvets  is  very  well,  but  there's  not  one  of 
em  can  hold  a  candle  to  Mary  Hann.'  " 


"  Railway  Spec  is  going  on  phamusly.  You 
should  see  how  polite  they  har  at  my  bankers  now  } 
Sir  Paul  Pump  Aldgate  &  Company.  They  bow 
me  out  of  the  back  parlor  as  if  I  was  a  Nybobb. 
Every  body  says  I  'm  worth  half  a  millium.  The 
number  of  lines  they're  putting  me  upon,  is  inkum- 
seavable.  I  've  put  Fitzwarren,  my  man,  upon 
several.  Reginald  Fitzwarren,  Esquire,  looks 
splended  in  a  perspectus  ;  and  the  raskle  owns  that 
he  has  made  two  thowsnd. 

"  How  the  ladies  &  men  too,  foller  &  flatter  me ! 
If  I  go  into  Lady  Binsis  hopra  box,  she  makes  room 
for  me,  who  ever  is  there,  and  cries  out,  '  0  do  make 
room  for  that  dear  creature  ! '  And  she  comply- 
ments  me  on  my  taste  in  musick,  or  my  new  Broom- 
oss,  or  the  phansy  of  my  weskit,  and  always  ends  by 
asking  me  for  some  shares.     Old  Lord  Bareacres, 


36 

as  stiff  as  a  poaker,  as  prowd  as  Loosyfer,  as  poor  as 
JoAB — even  he  condysends  to  be  sivvle  to  the  great 
De  la  Pluche,  and  begged  me  at  Harthur's,  lately, 
in  his  sollom,  pompus  way,  '  to  fa-\5er  him  with  five 
minutes  conversation.'  I  knew  what  was  coming — 
application  for  shares — put  him  down  on  my  private 
list.  Wouldn't  mind  the  Scrag  End  Junction  pass- 
ing through  Bareacres — hoped  I  'd  come  down  and 
shoot  there. 

"  I  gave  the  old  humbugg  a  few  shares  out  of  my 
own  pocket.  '  There,  old  Pride,'  says  I,  '  I  like  to 
see  you  down  on  your  knees  to  a  footman.  There, 
old  Pompossaty !  Take  fifty  pound  ;  I  like  to  see 
you  come  cringing  and  begging  for  it.'  Whenever  I 
see  him  in  a  very  public  place,  I  take  my  change  for 
my  money.  I  digg  him  in  the  ribbs,  or  slap  his 
padded  old  shoulders.  I  call  him  '  Bareacres,  my 
old  buck ! '  and  I  see  him  wince.  It  does  my  art 
good. 

"I'm  in  low  spirits.  A  disagreeable  insadent 
has  just  occurred.  Lady  Pump,  the  banker's  wife, 
asked  me  to  dinner.  I  sat  on  her  right,  of  coarse, 
with  an  uncommon  gal  ner  me,  with  whom  I  was  get- 
ting on  in  my  fassanating  way — full  of  lacy  ally  (as 
the  Marquis  says)  and  easy  plesntry.  Old  Pump, 
from  the  end  of  the  table,  asked  me  to  drink  Sham- 
pane  ;  and  on  turning  to  tak  the  glass,  I  saw  Charles 
Wackles  (with  womb  I  'd  been  imployed  at  Colonel 


JEAMES'S    DIARY.         "  37 


Spurrier's  house)  grinning  over  his  snoulder  at  the 
Butler. 

'•  The  beest  reckonized  me.  Has  I  was  putting 
on  my  palto  in  the  hall,  he  came  up  again :  •  Hotv  dy 
doo.  Jeames,'  says  he,  in  a  findish  visper.  '  Just 
come  out  here,  Chawles,'  says  I,  '  I  've  a  word  foi 
you,  my  old  boy.'  So  I  beckoned  him  into  Portland 
Place,  with  my  pus  in  my  hand,  as  if  I  was  going  to 
give  him  a  sovaring. 

" '  I  think  you  said  "  Jea:mes,"  Chawles,'  says  I, 
'  and  grind  at  me  at  dinner  ?  ' 

" '  Why,  sir,'  says  he,  '  we  're  old  friends,  you 
know.' 

'' '  Take  that  for  old  friendship,  then,'  says  I.  '  and 
I  gave  him  just  one  on  the  noas.  which  sent  him  down 
on  the  pavemint  as  if  he  'd  been  shot.'  And  mount- 
ing myjesticly  into  my  cabb,  I  left  the  rest  of  the 
grinning  scoundrills  to  pick  him  up,  &  droav  to  the 
Clubb." 


"  Have  this  day  kimpleated  a  little  efair  with  my 
friend  Gtegrge,  Earl  Bareacres,  which  I  trust  will 
be  to  the  advantidge  both  of  self  &  that  noble  gent. 
Adjining  the  Bareacre  proppaty  is  a  small  piece  of 
land  of  about  100  acres,  called  Squallop  Hill,  igseed- 
ing  advantageous  for  the  cultivation  of  sheep,  which 
have  been  found  to  have  a  pickewlear  fine  flaviour 


38  '  JEAMES'S    DIAKY. 


from  the  natur  of  the  grass,  tyme,  heather,  and  other 
hodarefarus  plants  which  grows  on  that  mounting  in 
the  places  where  the  rox  and  stones  dont  prevent 
them.  Thistles  here  is  also  remarkable  fine,  and  the 
land  is  also  divided  hoff  by  luxurient  Stcne  Hedges 
— much  more  usefle  and  ickonomicle  than  your  quick- 
set, or  any  of  that  rubbishing  sort  of  timber  ;  indeed 
the  sile  is  of  that  fine  natur,  that  timber  refuses  to 
grow  there  altogether.  I  gave  Bareacres  50£  an 
acre  for  this  laud  (the  igsact  premium  of  my  St. 
Helena  Shares)— a  very  handsom  price  for  land  which 
never  yielded  two  shillings  an  acre  ;  and  very  con- 
venient to  his  Lordship,  I  know,  who  had  a  bill 
coming  due  at  his  Bankers  which  he  had  given  them. 
Jeames  de  la  Pluche,  Esquire,  is  thus  for  the  fust 
time  a  landed  propriator — or  rayther,  I  should  say, 
is  about  to  reshume  the  rank  &  dignity  in  the  country 
which  his  Hancestors  so  long  occupied." 


"  I  have  caused  one  of  our  inginears  to  make  me 
a  plann  of  the  Squallop  Estate,  Diddlesexshire,  the 
property  of  &c.,  &c.,  bordered  on  the  North  by  Lord 
Bareacres'  Country ;  on  the  West  by  Sir  Granby 
Growler  ;  on  the  South  by  the  Hotion.  An  Arky- 
tect  &  Survare,  a  young  feller  of  great  imagination, 
womb  we  have  employed  to  make  a  survey  of  the 
Great  CaflFrarian  line,  has  built  me  a  beautiful  Villar 


JEAMES'S    DIARY.  39 


(on  paper),  Plushton  Hall.  Diddlesex,  the  seat  of  I  de 
LA  P.,  Esquire.  The  house  is  reprasented  a  hand- 
some Itallian  Structer.  imbusmd  in  woods,  and  cir- 
cumwented  bj  beautiful  gardings.  Theres  a  lake  in 
front  with  boatsfull  of  nobillaty  and  musitions  floting 
on  its  placid  sufFace — -and  a  curricle  is  a  driving  up 
to  the  grand  bentrance.  and  me  in  it.  with  3Ir?.  or 
perhaps  Lady  Hangelana  de  la  Pluche.  I  speak 
adwisedlj.  I  may  be  going  to  form  a  noble  kinexion. 
I  may  be  (by  marridge)  going  to  unight  my  famly 
once  mor  with  Harrystoxy,  from  which  misfortn  has 
for  some  sentries  separated  us.  I  have  dreams  of 
that  sort. 

"  I've  scan  sevral  times  in  a  dalitifle  vishn  a 
sert.ing  ErI.  standing  in  a  hattitude  of  bennydiction, 
and  rattafying  my  union  with  a  serting  butifle  young 
lady,  his  daughter.  Phansy  Mr.  or  Sir  Jeames  and 
Lady  Hangelixa  de  la  Pluche  !  Ho  !  what  will  the 
old  washywoman,  my  grandmother,  say  ?  She  may 
sell  her  mangle  then,  and  shall  too  by  my  honour  as 

a  Gent." 

»  

"  As  for  Squallop  Hill,  its  not  to  be  emadgitd 
that  I  was  going  to  give  5000  lb.  for  a  bleak  mount- 
ing like  that,  unless  I  had  some  ideer  in  vew.  Ham 
I  not  a  Director  of  the  Grand  Diddlesex?  Dont 
Squallop  lie  amediately  betwigst   Old  Bone  House, 


40  ji:am!::>"s  diary. 


Single  Glostcv.  :ind  Scrau'  End,  through  which  cities 
our  line  passes?  I  will  have  40,000  lb.  for  that 
mounting,  or  ni}'^  name  is  not  Jeames.  I  have  aranged 
a  little  barging  too  for  my  friend  the  Erl.  The  line 
will  pass  through  a  hangle  of  Bareacre  Park.  He 
shall  have  a  good  compensation  I  promis  you ;  and 
then  I  shall  get  back  the  3000  I  lent  him.  His 
banker's  acount,  I  fear,  is  in  a  horrid  state." 

[The  Diary  now  for  several  days  contains  particu- 
lars of  no  interest  to  the  public  : — Memoranda 
of  City  dinners — meetings  of  Directors — fash- 
ionable parties  in  which  Mr.  Jeames  figures, 
and  almost  always  by  the  side  of  his  new 
friend.  Lord  Bareacres,  whose  " pompossaty,' 
as  described  in  the  last  Number,  seems  to 
have  almost  entirely  subsided] 

We  then  come  to  the  following: — 

"  With  a  prowd  and  thankfle   Art,  I  coppy  off 
this  morning's  Gyzett  the  folloing  news: — 

" '  Commission  signed  by  the  Lord  Lieutenant  of 

the  County  of  Diddlesex. 
'' '  James  Augustus  de  la  Pluche,  Esquire,  to  be 

Deputy  Lieutenant.' " 


JEAMES'S    DIARY.  41 


'• '  North  Diddlesex  Regiment  of  Yeomanry 
Cavalry. 

"  '  James  Augustus  de  la  Pluche,  Esquire,  to 
be  Captain,  vice  Blowhard,  promoted.' " 


"  And  his  it  so  ?  Ham  I  indeed  a  landed  pro- 
priator — a  Deppaty  Leftnant — a  Capting?^  May  I 
hatend  the  Cort  of  my  Sovring?  and  dror  a  sayber 
in  my  country's  defeus?  I  wish  the  French  ivood 
land,  and  me  at  the  head  of  my  squadring  on  my  hoss 
Desparation.  How  Id  extonish  'em  !  How  the  gals 
will  stare  when  they  see  me  in  youniform  !  How 
MiiRY  Hann  would — but  nonsince !  I'm  halways 
thinking  of  that  pore  gal.  She's  left  Sir  John's. 
She  couldn't  abear  to  stay  after  I  went,  I've  heerd 
say.  I  hope  she's  got  a  good  place.  Any  summ  of 
money  that  would  sett  her  up  in  bisniss,  or  make  her 
comfarable,  I'd  come  down  with  like  a  mann.  I  told 
my  granmother  so,  who  sees  her,  and  rode  down  to 
Healing  on  porpose  on  Desparation  to  leave  a  five  lb 
noat  in  anvylope.  But  she's  sent  it  back,  sealed  with 
a  thimbill." 


"  Tuesday.  Reseavd  the  folloing  letter  from  Lord 

B ,  rellatif  to  my  presntation  at  Cort  and  the 

Youniform   I   shall   wear   on    that   hospicious   sera- 
mony : — 


42  JEAMES'S    DIARY. 


" '  My  dear  de  la  Pluche, 

'■ '  I  tbink  you  had  better  be  presented  as  a 
Deputy  Lieutenant.  As  for  the  Diddlesex  Yeoman- 
ry, I  hardly  know  what  the  uniforn  is  now.  The  last 
time  we  were  out,  was  in  1803,  when  the  Prince  of 
Wales  reviewed  us,  and  when  we  wore  French  grey 
jackets,  leathers,  red  morooco  boots,  crimson  pelisses, 
brass  hebnets  with  leopard-skin  and  a  white  plume,  and 
the  regulation  pig-tail  of  eighteen  inches.  That  dress 
will  hardly  answer  at  present,  and  must  be  modified, 
of  course.  We  were  called  the  White  Feathers,  in 
those  days.  For  my  part.  I  decidedly  recommend 
the  Deputy  Lieutenant. 

" '  I  shall  be  happy  to  present  you  at  the  Levee 
and  at  the  Drawing-room.  Lady  Bareacres  will  be 
in  town  for  the  13th,  with  Angelina,  who  will  be 
presented  on  that  day.  My  wife  has  heard  much  of 
you,  and  is  anxious  to  make  your  acquaintance. 

"  '  All  my  people  are  backward  with  their  rents  ; 
for  Heaven's  sake,  my  dear  fellow,  lend  me  five 
hundred  and  oblige 

" '  Yours,  very  gratefully, 

"'  Bareacres.' 

"  Note.  Bareacres  may  press  me  about  the 
Depity  Leftnant — but  I^m  for  the  cavvlery." 


JEAMES'S    DIARY.  43 


Jewly  will  always  be  a  sacrid  anniwussary  with 
me.  It  was  in  that  month  that  I  became  persnally 
ecquaintid  with  my  Prins  and  my  gracious  Sovarink. 

"  Long  before  the  hospitious  event  acurd.  yon  may 
emadgin  that  my  busm  was  in  no  triffling  flutter. 
Sleaplis  of  nights,  I  past  them  thinking  of  the  great 
ewent — or  if  igsosted  natur  did  clothes  my  highlids 
— the  eyedear  of  my  waking  thoughts  pevaded  my 
slummers.  Corts,  Erls,  presntations,  Goldstix,  gra- 
cious Sovarinx  mengling  in  my  dreembs  unceasnly. 
I  blush  to  say  it  (for  humin  prisumpshn  never  surely 
igseeded  that  of  my  wickid  wickid  vishn).  One  night 
I  actially  dremt  that  Her  E,.  H.  the  Princess  Hal- 
Lis  was  grown  up,  and  that  there  was  a  Cabinit  Coun- 
sel to  detummin  whether  her  &  was  to  be  bestoad  on 
me  or  the  Prins  of  Sax  MrFFiNGHAUSEx-PuMPEx- 
STEiN,  a  young  Prooshn  or  Germing  zion  of  nobillaty. 
I  ask  umly  parding  for  this  hordacious  ideer. 

"I  said,  in  my  fommer  remarx,  that  I  had  detum- 
mined  to  be  presented  to  the  notus  of  my  reveared 
Sovaring  in  a  melintary  coschewm.  The  Court-shoots 
in  which  Sivillians  attend  a  Levy  are  so  uncomming 
like  the — the — livries  (ojous  wud  !  I  8  to  put  it 
down)  I  used  to  wear  befor  entering  sosiaty,  that  I 
couldn't  abide  the  notium  of  wearing  one.  My  de- 
tummination  was  fumly  fixt  ±o  apeer  as  a  Yominry 
Cavilry  Hoffiser,  in  the  galleant  youniform  of  the 
North  Diddlesex  Huzzas. 


44 

"Has  that  redgmint  had  not  been  out  sins  1803, 
I  thought  myself  quite  hotherized  to  make  such  hal- 
terations  in  the  jouniform  as  shuited  the  present  time 
and  my  metured  and  elygint  taste.  Pigtales  was  out 
of  the  question.  Tites  I  was  detummined  to  mintain. 
My  legg  is  praps  the  finist  pint  about  me,  and  I  was 
risolved  not  to  hide  it  under  a  booshle. 

"  I  phixt  on  searlit  tites,  then,  imbridered  with 
goold  as  I  have  seen  Widdicomb  wear  them  at  Hash- 
leys  when  me  and  Mary  Hann  used  to  go  there. 
Ninety-six  guineas  worth  of  rich  goold  lace  and  cord 
did  I  have  myhandering  hall  hover  those  shoperb  in- 
agspressables. 

"  Yellow  marocky  Heshn  boots,  red  eels,  goold 
spurs  &  goold  tassles  as  bigg  as  belpulls. 

"  Jackit — French  gray  and  silver  oringe  fasings  & 
cuphs,  according  to  the  old  patn ;  belt,  green  and 
goold,  tight  round  my  pusn,  &  settin  hoff  the  cemetry 
of  my  figgar  not  disadvintajusly. 

"  A  huzza  paleese  of  pupple  velvit  &  sable  fir.  A 
sayber  of  Demaskus  steal,  and  a  sabertash  (in  which 
I  kep  my  Odiclone  and  imbridered  pocket  ankercher), 
kimpleat  my  acooterments,  which  without  vannaty, 
was,  I  flatter  myself,  uneak. 

"  But  the  crownding  triumph  was  my  hat.  I 
couldnt  wear  a  cock  A^.  The  huzzahs  dont  use  'em. 
I  wouldnt  wear  the  hojous  old  brass  Elmett  &  Lep- 
pardskin.     I  choas  a  hat  which  is  dear  to  the  memry 


JEAMES  S    DIARY.  45 


of  hevery  Brittn  ;  an  at  which  was  inwented  by  my 
Feeld  Marslile  and  adord  Prins  ;  an  At  which  vulgar 
prejidis  Sf  Joaking  has  in  vane  etempted  to  run  down. 
I  chose  the  Halbert  At.  I  didnt  tell  Bareacres 
of  this  egsabishn  of  loilty,  intending  to  surprize  him. 
The  white  ploom  of  the  West  Diddlesex  Yomingry  I 
fixt  on  the  topp  of  this  Shacko,  where  it  spread  hout 
like  a  shaving-brush. 

"  You  may  be  sure  that  befor  the  fatle  day  ar- 
rived, I  didnt  niglect  to  practus  my  part  well ;  and 
had  sevral  rehustles^  as  they  say. 

"  This  was   the   way.     I  used  to  dress  myself  in 

my  full  togs.    I  made  Fitzwarren,  my  boddy  servnt, 

stand  at  the  dor,  and  figger  as  the  Lord  in  Waiting. 

I  put  Mrs.  BlokeRj  my  laundress,  in  my  grand  harm 

chair  to  reprasent  the  horgust  pusn  of  my  Sovring — 

Frederick,  my  secknd  man,  standing  on  her  left,  in 

the  hattatude  of  an  illustrus  Prins  Consort.     Hall 

the  Candles  were  lighted.     '  Captain  de  la  Pluche, 

presented  by  Herl  Bareaa'es^  Fitzwarren,  my  man, 

igsclaimed,    as    adwancing    I    made   obasins   to    the 

Thrown.     Nealin  on  one  nee,  I  cast  a  glans  of  un- 

huttarable   loilty   towards    The   Brittish  Crownd, 

then  stepping  gracefully  hup,  (my  Dimascus  Simiter 

would  git  betwigst  my  ligs.  in  so  doink,  which  at  fust 

was  wery  disagreeble) — rising  hup  grasefly,  I  say,  I 

flung  a  look  of  manly  but  respeckfl  hommitch  tords 

my  PrinSj  and  then  ellygntly  ritreated  backards  out  of 


46  JEAMES'S    DIARY. 


the  Roil  Presents.  I  kep  my  4  suvnts  hup  for  4 
hours  at  this  gaym  the  night  befor  my  presntation, 
and  yet  I  was  the  fust  to  be  hup  with  the  sunrice. 
I  coodnt  sleep  that  night.  By  abowt  six  o'clock  in 
che  morning  I  was  drest  in  my  full  uniform — and  I 
didn    know  how  to  pass  the  interveaning  hours. 

"'My  Granmother  hasnt  seen  me  in  full  phigg,' 
says  I.  '  It  will  rejoice  that  pore  old  sole  to  behold 
one  of  her  race  so  suxesfle  in  life.'  Has  I  ave  read 
in  the  novvle  of  '  Kennleworth.'  that  the  Herl  goes 
down  in  Cort  dress  and  extoneshes  Hamy  llobsart,  I 
will  go  down  in  hall  my  spleuder  and  astownd  my  old 
washy  woman  of  a  Granmother.  To  make  this  detuni- 
mination ;  to  border  my  Broom  ;  to  knock  down 
Frederick  the  groomb  for  delaying  to  bring  it ;  was 
with  me  the  wuck  of  a  momint.  The  nex  sor  as 
galliant  a  cavyleer  as  hever  rode  in  a  cabb,  skowering 
the  road  to  Healing. 

"  I  arrived  at  the  well-known  cottitch.  My  huncle 
was  habsent  with  the  cart ;  but  the  dor  of  the  humble 
eboad  stood  hopen,  and  I  passed  through  the  little 
garding  where  the  close  was  hanging  out  to  dry.  My 
snowy  ploom  was  ableeged  to  bend  under  the  lowly 
porch,  as  I  hentered  the  apartmint. 

"  There  was  a  smell  of  tea  there — there's  always 
a  smell  of  tea  there — the  old  lady  was  at  her  Bohee 
as  usual.  I  advanced  tords  her  ;  but  ha  !  phansy  my 
extonnishment  when  I  sor  Mary  Hann  ! 


JEAMES'S    DIARY.  47 


"  I  balmost  faintid  witli  himotion.  '  Ho,  Jeames  ! ' 
(she  lias  said  to  me  subsquintij)  mortial  mann  never 
looked  so  bewtifle  as  you  did  when  you  arived  on  the 
day  of  the  Levy.  You  were  no  longer  mortial,  you 
were  diwine  ! ' 

"  R  !  what  little  Justas  the  Hartist  has  done  to 
my    mannly  etractions  in  the  groce  carriketure  he's 

made  of  me." 

#  ***** 

'•  Nothing,  perhaps,  ever  created  so  great  a  sensa- 
shun  as  my  hentrance  to  St.  Jeames's,  on  the  day  of 
the  Levy.  The  Tuckish  Hambasdor  himself  was  not 
so  much  remarked  as  my  shuperb  turn  out. 

"  As  a  Millentary  man,  and  a  North  Diddlesez 
Huzza,  I  was  resolved  to  come  to  the  ground  on  hoss- 
back.  I  had  Desparation  phigd  out  as  a  charger,  and 
got  4  Melentery  dresses  from  Ollywell  Street,  in 
which  I  drest  my  2  men  (Fitzwarrex,  bout  of  livry, 
woodnt  stand  it),  and  2  fellers  from  Rdiles,  where 
my  bosses  stand  at  livry.  I  rode  up  St.  Jeames's 
Street,  with  my  4  Hadycongs — the  people  huzzaying 
— the  gals  waving  their  hankerchers,  a3  if  I  were  a 
Foring  Prins — hall  the  winders  crowdid  to  see  me 
pass. 

"  The  guard  must  have  taken  me  for  a  Hempror 
at  least,  when  I  came,  for  the  drums  beat,  and  the 
guard  turned  out  and  seluted  me  with  presented 
harms. 


48  "         JEAMES'S    DIARY, 


"  What  a  momink  of  triumth  it  was  !  I  sprung 
myjestickly  from  Desperation.  I  gav  the  rains  to 
one  of  my  horderlies.  and,  salewting  the  crowd,  I  past 
into  the  presnts  of  my  Moss  Gracious  Mrs." 


You,  peraps,  may  igspect  that  I  should  narrait  at 
at  lenth  the  suckmstanzas  of  my  hawjince  with  the 
British  Crownd.  But  I  am  not  one  who  would 
gratafy  imputtnint  curaiosaty.  Bispect  for  our 
reckonized  instatewtions  is  my  fust  quallaty.  I.  for 
one,  will  dye  rallying  round  my  Thrown. 

'^  Sufl&se  it  to  say,  when  I  stood  in  the  Horgust 
Presnts, — when  I  sor  on  the  right  &  of  my  Him 
perial  Sovring  that  Most  Gracious  Prins,  to  admire 
womb  has  been  the  chief  Objick  of  my  life,  my  busum 
was  seased  with  an  imotium  which  my  Penn  rifewses 
to  dixcribe — my  trembling  knees  halmost  rifused 
their  hoffis — I  reckleck  nothing  mor  until  I  was 
found  phainting  in  the  harms  of  the  Lord  Chamber- 
ling.  Sir  Bobert  Peal  apnd  to  be  standing  by  (I 
knew  our  wuthy  Primmier  by  Punches  picturs  of 
him,  igspecially  his  ligs),  and  he  was  conwussing  with 
a  man  of  womb  I  shall  say  nothink,  but  that  he  is  a 
Hero  of  100  fites,  arid  hevery  Jite  he  Jit  he  one.  Nead 
I  say  that  I  elude  to  Harthur  of  Wellingting? 
I  introjuiced  myself  to  these  Jents,  and  intend  to 


JEAMES  S    DIARY.  49 


improve  the  equaintance,  and  peraps  ast  Guvment  for 
a  Barnetcy. 

'•  But  there  was  another  pusn  womb  on  this 
droring-room  I  fust  had  the  inagspressable  dalite  to 
beold.  This  was  that  Star  of  fashing,  that  Sinecure 
of  neighbouring  i's,  as  Milting  observes,  the  ecom- 
plisht  Lady  Hangelina  Thistlewood,  daughter  of 
my  exlent  frend,  John  Gteorge  G-odfrey  de  Bullion 
Thistlewood,  Earl  of  Bareacres,  Baron  Southdown, 
in  the  Peeridge  of  the  United  Kingdom,  Baron  Hag- 
gismore,  in  Scotland,  K.  T.,  Lord  Leftnant  of  the 
County  of  Diddlesex,  &c.,  &c.  This  young  lady  was 
with  her  Noble  Ma,  when  I  was  kinducted  tords  her. 
And  surely  never  lighted  on  this  hearth  a  more  de- 
lightfle  vishn.  In  that  gallixy  of  Bewty  the  Lady 
Hangettna  was  the  fairest  Star — in  that  reath  of 
Loveliness  the  sweetest  E-osebudd !  Pore  Mary 
Hann,  my  Art's  young  affeckshns  had  been  senterd 
on  thee  ;  but  like  water  through  a  siw,  her  immidge 
disapeared  in  a  momink,  and  left  me  intransd  in  the 
presnts  of  Hangelina  ! 

Lady  Bareacres  made  me  a  myjestick  bow — a 
grand  and  hawfle  pusnage  her  Ladyship  is,  with  a 
Roming  Nose,  and  an  enawmus  ploom  of  Hostridge 
phethers ;  the  fare  Hangelina  smiled  with  a  sweet- 
ness perfickly  bewhildring,  and  said,  '  0,  Mr.  de  la 
Pluche,  I'm  so  delighted  to  make  youi  acquaint- 
ance !  I  have  often  heard  of  you.' 


50  JEAMES'S    DIARY. 


" '  Who,'  says  I,  '  has  meiitioued  my  insiggnif- 
ficknt  igsistance  to  the  fair  Lady  Hangelina,  kel 
bonure  igstrame  poor  mwaiv ;''  (for  you  see  I've  not 
studdied  Pelham  for  nothiuk,  and  have  lunt  a  few 
French  phraces,  without  which  no  Gent  of  fashn 
speaks  now). 

"  '  0,'  replies  my  lady,  '  it  was  Papa  first ;  and 
then  a  very,  very  old  friend  of  yours.' 

" '  Whose  name  is,'  says  I,  pusht  on  by  my  stoopid 
curawsaty 

"  '  Hoggins — Mary  Ann  Hoggins  ' — ansurred  my 
lady  (laffiug  phit  to  splitt  her  little  sides).  '  She  is 
my  maid,  Mr.  de  la  Pluche,  and  I  'm  afraid  you  are 
a  very  sad,  sad  person.' 

"  '  A  mere  baggytell,'  says  I.  '  In  fommer  days  I 
was  equainted  with  that  young  woman ,  but  haltered 
suckmstancies  have  sepparated  us  for  hever,  and 
mong  cure  is  irratreevably  j?je;-(:Zez^  elsewhere.' 

" '  Do  tell  me  all  about  it.  Who  is  it  ?  When 
was  it?     We  are  all  dying  to  know.' 

"  '  Since  about  two  minnits,  and  the  Ladys  name 
begins  with  a  ZZa,'  says  I,  looking  her  tendarly  in 
the  face,  and  conjring  up  hall  the  fassanations  of  my 
smile. 

" '  Mr.  de  la  Pluche,'  here  said  a  gentleman  in 
whiskers  and  mistashes  standing  by,  '  hadn't  you  bet- 
ter take  your  spurs  out  of  the  Countess  of  Bare- 
acres'  train  ?  ' — "  Never  mind  Mamma's  train  '  (said 


JEAMES'S    DIARY,  51 


Lady  Hangelina)  ;  '  this  is  the  great  Mr.  de  la 
Pluche.  v>^ho  is  to  make  all  our  fortunes — yours  too. 
Mr.  de  la  Pluche,  let  me  present  you  to  Captain 
George  Silvertop.' — The  Capting  bent  just  one 
jint  of  his  back  very  slitely ;  I  retund  his  stare  with 
equill  hottiness.  '  Go  and  see  for  Lady  Bareacres' 
carridge,  Charles,'  says  his  Lordship ;  and  vispers 
to  me,  '  a  cousin  of  ours — a  poor  relation.'  So  I  took 
no  notis  of  the  feller  when  he  came  back,  nor  in  my 
subsquint  visits  to  Hill  Street,  where  it  seems  a 
knife  and  fork  was  laid  reglar  for  this  shabby  Cap- 
tins;." 


"  Thusday  Night. — 0  Hangelina,  Hangelina, 
my  pashn  for  you  hogments  daily!  I've  bean  with 
her  two  the  Hopra.  I  sent  her  a  bewtifle  Camellia 
Jyponiky  from  Covn  Garding,  with  a  request  she 
would  wear  it  in  her  raving  Air.  I  woar  another  in 
ni}^  butn-ole.  Evns,  what  was  my  sattusfackshn  as 
I  leant  hover  her  chair,  and  igsammined  the  house 
with  my  glas  ! 

"  She  was  as  sulky  and  silent  as  pawsble,  how- 
ever— would  scarcely  speek ;  although  I  kijoled  her 
with  a  thowsnd  little  plesntries.  I  spose  it  was  be- 
cause that  wulgar  raskle  Silvertop,  wood  stay  in 
*.he  box.     As  if  he  didn'  know  (Lady  B's  as  deaf  as 


52  JEAMES'S    DIARY. 


a  poast  and  counts  for  notliink)  that  people   some- 
times like  a  tatytatyP 


"  Friday. — I  was  sleeples  all  night.  I  gave  went 
to  my  feelings  in  the  foUoring  lines — there's  a  hair 
out  of  Balfe's  Hopera  that  she's  fond  of.  I  edapted 
them  to  that  mellady. 

"  She  was  in  the  droring-room  alone  with  Lady 
B.  She  was  wobbling  at  the  pyanna  as  I  hentered. 
I  flung  the  convasation  upon  mewsick ;  said  I  sung 
myself  (I  've  ad  lesns  lately  of  Signok.  Twanky- 
DiLLo) ;  and,  on  her  rekwesting  me  to  faver  her  with 
somethink,  I  bust  out  with  my  poim  : 

"WHEN  MOONLIKE  OER  THE  HAZURE  SEAS." 

"  "When  moonlike  ore  the  hazure  seas 

In  soft  effulgence  swells, 
When  silver  jews  and  balmy  breaze 

Bend  down  the  Lily's  bells ; 
When  calm  and  deap,  the  rosy  sleap 

Has  lapt  your  soul  in  dreems, 
R  Hangkline  !  R  lady  mine ! 

Dost  thou  remember  Jeames  ? 

"  '  I  mark  thee  in  the  Marble  AH, 

Where  Englauds  loveliest  shine— 
I  say  the  fairest  of  them  hall 
Is  Lady  Hangeline. 


JEAMES'S    DIARY.  53 


My  soul,  in  desolate  eclipse, 

"With  recollection  teems — 
And  then  I  hask,  with  weeping  lips, 

Dost  thou  remember  Jel^mes  ? 

"  '  Away !  I  may  not  tell  thee  hall 

This  soughring  heart  endures — 
There  is  a  lonely  sperrit-call 

That  Sorrow  never  cures  ;  • 

There  is  a  little,  little  Star, 

That  still  above  me  beams ; 
It  is  the  Star  of  Hope — but  ar ! 

Dost  thou  remember  Jeames  ? ' 

"  Wlien  I  came  to  the  last  words,  '  Dost  thou  re- 
member Je-e-e-ams,'  I  threw  such  an  igspresshn  of 
unuttrabble  tenderniss  into  the  shake  at  the  hen^, 
that  Hangelina  could  bare  it  no  more.  A  bust  of 
uncumtrollable  emotium  seized  her.  She  put  her 
ankercher  to  her  face  and  left  the  room.  I  heard 
her  laffing  and  sobbing  histerickly  in  the  bedwor. 

"  0  Hangelina — My  adord  one,  My  Arts  joy !" 


Bareacres,  me,  the  ladies  of  the  famly,  with  their 
sweet,  Southdown,  B's  eldest  son,  and  George  Sil- 
VERTOP,  the  shabby  Capting  (who  seames  to  git  leaf 
from  his  ridgment  whenhever  he  likes),  have   beene 


54  JEAMES'S    DIARY. 


down  into  Diddlesex  for  a  few  days,  enjying  the  spawts 
of  the  feald  there. 

"  Never  having  done  much  in  the  gunning  line 
(since  when  a  hinnasent  boy,  me  and  Jim  Cox  used  to 
go  out  at  Healing,  and  shoot  sparrers  ir  the  Edges 
with  a  pistle)  —  I  was  reyther  dowtfle  as  to  my  suxes 
as  a  shot,  and  practusd  for  some  days  at  a  stoughd  bird 
,in  a  shooting  gallery,  which  a  chap  histed  up  and  down 
with  a  string.  1  sugseaded  in  itting  the  hannimle  pret- 
ty well.  I  bought  Awker's  '  Shooting-Gruide.'  two 
double  guns  at  Mantixgs,  and  salected  from  the 
French  prints  of  fashn  the  most  gawjus  and  ellygant 
sporting  ebillyment.  A  lite  blue  velvet  and  goold 
cap,  woar  very  much  on  one  hear,  a  cravatt  of  yaller 
&  green  imbroidered  satting,  a  weskit  of  the  McGtrig- 
(?ER  plaid,  &  a  jacket  of  the  McWhirter  tartu  (with 
large  motherapurl  butns.  engraved  with  coaches  & 
osses.  and  spawting  subjix),  high  leather  gayters,  and 
marocky  shooting  shoes,  was  the  simple  hellymence  of 
my  costewm,  and  I  flatter  myself  set  hoff  my  figger  in 
rayther  a  fayverable  way.  I  took  down  none  of  my 
own  pusnal  istablishmint  excep  Fitzwarren.  my  hone 
mann,  and  my  grooms,  with  Desparation  and  my 
curricle  osses.  and  the  Fourgong  containing  my  dress- 
ing-case and  close. 

"  I  was  heverywhere  introjuiced  in  the  county  as 
the  great  Railroad  Cappitlist,  who  was  to  make  Did- 
dlesex the  most  prawsperous  districk  of  the  hempire. 


JEAMES  S    DIARY.  55 


The  squires  prest  forrards  to  welcome  the  new  comer 
amongst  'em  ;  and  we  had  a  Hagrieultral  Meating  of 
the  Bareacres  tenantry,  where  I  made  a  speech  dror- 
ing  tears  from  hevery  i.  It  was  in  compliment  to  a 
layborer  who  had  brought  up  sixteen  children,  and 
lived  sixty  years  on  the  istate  on  seven  bobb  a  week. 
I  am  not  prowd,  though  I  know  my  station.  I  shook 
hands  with  that  niann  in  lavinder  kidd  gloves.  I  told 
him  that  the  purshuit  of  hagriculture  was  the  noblist 
hockupations  of  humannaty :  I  spoke  of  the  yoming 
of  Hengland,  who  (under  the  command  of  my  hancis- 
ters)  had  conquerd  at  Hadjincourt  &  Cressy ;  and  I 
gave  him  a  pair  of  new  velveteen  inagspressables, 
with  two  and  six  in  each  pocket,  as  a  reward  for  three 
score  years  of  labor.  Fitzwarren.  my  man,  brought 
them  forrards  on  a  satting  cushing.  Has  I  sat  down 
defning  chears  seluted  the  horator  ;  the  band  struck 
up  '  The  Good  Old  English  Gentleman.'  I  looked  to 
the  ladies  galry  ;  my  Hangelina  waived  her  ankash- 
er  and  kissed  her  & ;  and  I  sor  in  the  distance  that 
pore  Mary  Hann  efected  evidently  to  tears  by  my  el- 
laquints. 


"  What  an  adwance  that  gal  as  made  since  she's 
been  in  Lady  H  Angelina's  company !  Sins  she 
wears  her  young  lady's  igsploded  gownds  and  retired 
caps  and  ribbings,  there's    an  ellygance    abowt    her 


56  JEAMES'S    DIARY. 


which  is  puffickly  admarable  ;  and  which,  haddid  to  her 
own  natral  bewty  &  sweetniss,  creates  iu  my  boozum 
serting  sensatiums  *  *  *  Shor !  I  musti-Ct  give 
way  to  fealinx  unwuthy  of  a  member  of  the  aristoxy. 
What  can  she  be  to  me  but  a  mear  recklection,  a 
vishn  of  former  ears? 

"  I'm  blest  if  I  didn  mistake  her  for  Hangelina  her- 
self yesterday.  I  met  her  in  the  grand  CoUydore  of 
Bareacres  Castle.  I  sor  a  lady  in  a  melumcolly  hat- 
tatude  gacing  outawinder  at  the  setting  sun,  which 
was  eluminating  the  fair  parx  and  gardings  of  the  han- 
cient  demean. 

"  '  Bewchus  Lady  HANGExmA,'  says  I-  -A  penny 
for,  your  Ladyship's  thoughts,'  says  I. 

"  '  Ho  Jeames  i  Ho,  Mr.  De  la  Pluche  !'  hanser- 
ed  a  well-known  vice,  with  a  haxnt  of  sadnis  which 
went  to  my  art.  '  You  know  what  my  thoughts  are, 
well  enough.  I  was  thinking  of  happy,  happy  old 
times,  when  both  of  us  were  poo — poo — oor,'  says 
Mary  Hann,  busting  out  in  a  phit  of  crying,  a 
thing  I  can't  ebide.  I  took  her  &  and  tried  to  cumft 
her :  I  pinted  out  the  diffrens  of  our  sitawashuns ; 
igsplained  to  her  that  proppaty  has  its  jewties  as 
well  as  its  previletches,  and  that  'iiiy  juty  clearly  was 
to  marry  into  a  noble  famly.  I  kep  on  talking  to 
her  (she  sobbing  and  going  hon  hall  the  time)  till 
Lady  Hangelina  herself  came  up — •  The  real  Siming 
Fewer,'   as  they  say  in  the  play. 


JEAMES'S    DIARY.  57 


'•  There  they  stood  together — them  two  young  wo- 
men. I  don't  know  which  is  the  ansamest.  I  coodnt 
help  comparing  them ;  and  I  coodnt  help  comparing 
myself  to  a  certing  Hannimle  I've  read  of,  that  found 
it  difficklt  to  make  a  choice  betwigst  2  Bundles  of  A." 


"  That  ungrateful  beest  Fitzwarrex- — my  can 
man — a  feller  I've  maid  a  fortune  for — a  feller  I  give 
100  lb.  per  hannum  to !— a  low  bred  Wallydyshamber  ! 
He  must  be  thinking  of  falling  in  love  too !  and 
treating  me  to  his  imperence. 

"  He's  a  great  big  athlatic  feller — six  foot  i,  with 
a  pair  of  black  whiskers  like  air-brushes  —  with 
a  look  of  a  Colonel  in  the  Harmy — -a  dangerous 
pawm pus-spoken  raskle  I  warrunt  you.  I  was  coming 
ome  from  shuiting  this  hafternoon — and  passing 
through  Lady  Haxgelixas  flour-garding,  who  should 
I  see  in  the  summerouse,  but  Mary  Haxn  pretending 
to  em  an  ankysher  and  Mr.  Fitzwarren  paying  his 
cort  to  her. 

'•'You  may  as  well  have  me,  Mary  Haxx,'  says 
he.  '  I've  saved  money.  We'll  take  a  public  house 
and  I'll  make  a  lady  of  you.  I'm  not  a  purse-proud 
ungrateful  fellow  like  Jeames — who's  such  a  snob 
('  such  A  snobb'  was  his  very  words  !)  that  I'm  asham- 
ed to  wait  on  him — who's  the  laughing  stock  of  all 
the  gentry  and  the  housekeeper's  room  too — try  a 
3 


58  JEAMES'S    DIARY. 


'inan^  says  he — '  don't  be  taking  onabout  such  a  hum- 
bug as  Jeames.' 

"  Here  young  Joe  the  keaper's  sun,  who  was  car- 
rying my  bagg,  bust  out  a  laffing — thereby  causing 
Mr,.  Fitzwarren  to  turn  round  and  intarupt  this 
polite  convasation. 

"  I  was  in  such  a  rayge.  '  Quit  the  building,  Mary 
Hann,'  says  I  to  the  young  woman — '  and  you,  Mr. 
Fitzwarren,  have  the  goodness  to  remain.' 

"  '  I  give  you  warning,'  roars  he,  looking  black,  blue, 
yaller — all  the  colours  of  the  ranebo. 

"  '  Take  hoff  your  coat,  you  imperent,  hungrateful 
scoundrl,'  says  I. 

'"  It's  not  your  livery,'  says  he. 
" '  Peraps  you'll  understand  me,  when  I  take  off  my 
own,'  sa.ys  I,  unbuttoning  the  motherapurls  of  the 
MacWhirter  tartn.  '  Take  my  jackit,  Joe,'  says  I 
to  the  boy, — and  put  myself  in  a  hattatude  about 
which  there  was  no  viistayky 

"  He's  2  stone  heavier  than  me — and  knows  the 
use  of  his  ands  as  well  as  most  men ;  but  in  a  fite, 
blood's  everythink ;  the  Snobb  can't  stand  before  the 
gentleman  ;  and  I  should  have  killed  him,  I've  little 
doubt,  but  they  came  up  and  stopt  the  fite  betwigst  us 
before  we'd  had  more  than  2  rounds. 

"I  punisht  the  raskle  tremenjusly  in  that  time, 
though  ;    and  I'm  writing  this  in  my  own    sittn-room, 


JEAMES'S    DIARY.  59 


not  being  able  to  come  down  to  dinner  on  account  of 
a  black  eye  I've  got,  which  is  sweld  up  and  disjfiggers 
me  dredfl." 


On  acount  of  the  hoffle  black  i  which  I  reseaved 
in  my  rangcounter  with  the  hinfimus  Fitzwarren,  I 
kep  my  roomb  for  sevral  days,  with  the  rose-coloured 
curtings  of  the  apartmint  closed,  so  as  to  form  an 
agreeble  twilike ;  and  a  light-bloo  satting  shayd  over 
the  injard  pheacher.  My  woons  was  thus  made  to 
become  me  as  much  as  pawsable ;  and  (has  the  Poick 
well  observs  '  Nun  but  the  Brayv  desuvs  the  Fare') 
I  cumsoled  myself  in  the  sasiaty  of  the  ladies  for  my 
tempory  disfiggarment. 

"  It  was  Mary  Hann  who  sum  mind  the  House 
and  put  an  end  to  my  phistycoughs  with  Fitz- 
warren. I  licked  him  and  bare  him  no  mallis  :  but 
of  corse  I  dismist  the  imperent  scoundrill  from  my 
suvvis,  apinting  Adolphus,  my  page,  to  his  post  of 
confidenshle  Yalley. 

"  Mary  Hann  and  her  young  and  lovely  Mrs. 
kep  paying  me  continyoul  visits  during  my  retire- 
mint.  Lady  Hangelina  was  halways  sending  me 
messidges  by  her :  while  my  exlent  friend.  Lady 
Bareacres  (on  the  contry)  was  always  sending  me 
toakns  of  affeckshn  by  Hangelina.  Xow  it  was  a 
cooling  hi-lotium,  inwented  by  herself,  that  her  Lady- 


60 

ship  would  perscribe — then,  agin,  it  would  be  a  booky 
of  flowers  (my  favrit  poUy  hanthuses,  pellagoniums, 
and  jyponikys),  which  none  but  the  fair  &s  of  Han- 
GELiNA  could  dispose  about  the  chamber  of  the  hin- 
vyleed.  Ho  !  those  dear  mothers  !  when  they  wish 
to  find  a  chans  for  a  galliant  young  feller,  or  to 
ixtablish  their  dear  gals  in  life,  what  awpertunities 
they  will  give  a  man  !  You'd  have  phansied  I  was 
so  hill  (on  account  of  my  black  hi),  that  I  couldnt 
live  exsep  upon  chicking  and  spoon-meat,  and  jellies, 
and  blemonges,  and  that  I  couldnt  eat  the  latter 
dellixies  (which  I  ebomminate  onternoo,  prefurring 
a  cut  of  beef  or  muttn  to  hall  the  kickpshaws  of 
France),  unless  Hangelina  brought  them.  I  et  'em, 
and  sacrafised  myself  for  her  dear  sayk. 

"  I  may  stayt  here  that  in  privit  convasationa 
with  old  Lord  B.  and  his  son,  I  had  mayd  my  pro- 
poasls  for  Hangelina,  and  was  axepted,  and  hoped 
soon  to  be  made  the  appiest  gent  in  Hengland. 

" '  You  must  break  the  matter  gently  to  her,'  said 
her  hexlent  father.  '  You  have  my  warmest  wishes, 
my  dear  Mr.  De  la  Pluche,  and  those  of  my  Lady 
Bareacres  :  but  I  am  not — not  quite  certain  about 
Lady  Angelina's  feelings.  Girls  are  wild  and  ro- 
mantic. They  do  not  see  the  necessity  of  prudent 
establishments,  and  I  have  never  yet  been  able  to 
make  Angelina  understand  the  embarrassments  of  . 
her  family.     These  silly  creatures  prate  about  love 


JEAMES'S    DIARY.  61 


and  a  cottage,  and  despise  advantages  which  wiser 
heads  than  theirs  know  how  to  estimate.' 

" '  Do  you  mean  that  she  aint  fassanated  by  me '? ' 
says  I,  busting  out  at  this  outrayjus  ideer. 

"  '  She  will  be,  my  dear  sir.  You  have  already 
pleased  her, — your  admirable  manners  must  succeed 
in  captivating  her,  and  a  fond  father's  wishes  will  be 
crowned  on  the  day  in  which  you  enter  our  family.' 

'•  •  Recklect,  gents,'  says  I  to  the  2  lords, — '  a  bar- 
ging's  a  barging — I'll  pay  hoff  Southdown's  Jews, 
when  I'm  his  brother — as  a  straynger — (this  I  said 
in  a  sarcastickle  toan) — I  wouldnt  take  such  a  libbaty. 
When  I'm  your  suninlor  I'll  treble  the  valyou  of  your 
estayt.  I'll  make  your  incumbrinces  as  right  as  a 
trivit,  and  restor  the  noble  ouse  of  Bareacres  to  its 
herly  splender.  But  a  pig  in  a  poak  is  not  the  way 
of  transacting  bisniss  imployed  by  Jeames  De  la 
Pluche,  Esquire.' 

"  And  I  had  a  right  to  speak  in  this  way.  I  was 
one  of  the  greatest  scrip-holders  in  Hengland  ;.  and 
calclated  on  a  kilossle  fortune.  All  my  shares  was 
rising  immence.  Every  poast  brot  me  noose  that  I 
was  sevral  thowsnds  richer  than  the  day  befor.  I 
was  detummind  not  to  reerlize  till  the  proper  time, 
and  then  to  buy  istates  ;  to  found  a  new  famly  of 
Delapluches,  and  to  alie  myself  with  the  aristoxy 
of  my  country. 

"  These  pints  I  reprasented  to  pore  Mary  Hann 


62  JEAMES'S    DIARY. 


hover  and  hover  agin.  '  If  you'd  been  Lady  Han- 
GELiNA,  my  dear  gal,'  says  I,  '  I  would  have  married 
you  :  and  why  don't  I?  Because  my  dooty  prewents 
me.  I'm  a  marter  to  dooty ;  and  you,  my  pore  gal, 
must  cumsole  yorself  with  that  ideer.' 

"  There  seamd  to  be  a  consperracy,  too,  between 
that  SiLVERTOP  and  Lady  Hangelina  to  drive  me  to 
the  same  pint.  '  What  a  plucky  fellow  you  were, 
Pluche,'  says  he  (he  was  rayther  more  familliar  than 
I  liked),  •  in  your  fight  with  Fitzwarren  ! — to  engage 
a  man  of  twice  your  strength  and  science,  though  you 
were  sure  to  be  beaten  (this  is  an  etroashous  folsood : 
I  should  have  finnisht  Fitz  in  10  minnits),  for  the 
sake  of  poor  Mary  Hann  !  That's  a  generous  fellow. 
I  like  to  see  a  man  risen  to  eminence  like  you,  hav- 
ing his  heart  in  the  right  place.  When  is  to  be  the 
marriage,  my  boy  ?  ' 

'"  Capting  S.,'  says  I,  'my  marridge  consunns 
your  most  umble  servnt  a  precious  sight  more  than 
you ; ' — and  I  gev  him  to  understand  I  didn't  want 
him  to  put  in  his  ore — I  wasn't  afrayd  of  his  whisk- 
ers, I  prommis  you,  Capting  as  he  was.  I'm  a 
British  Lion,  I  am  ;  as  brayv  as  Bonypert,  Hanni- 
BLE,  or  HoLivER  Crummle,  and  would  face  bagnits 
as  well  as  any  Evy  drigoon  of  'em  all. 

"  Lady  Hangelina,  too,  igspawstulated  in  her 
hartfl  way.     '  Mr  de  la  Pluche  (seshee)  why,  why 


6i 

press  this  point  ?  You  can't  suppose  that  you  will 
be  happy  with  a  person  like  me  ? ' 

'' '  I  adoar  you,  charming  gal ! '  says  I.  '  Never, 
never  go  to  say  any  such  thing.' 

"  •  You  adored  Mary  Ann  firsff '  answers  her 
Ladyship  ;  '  you  can't  keep  your  eyes  off  her  now. 
If  an}^  man  courts  her  you  grow  so  jealous  that  you 
begin  beating  him.  You  will  break  the  girl's  heart 
if  you  don't  marry  her,  and  perhaps  some  one  else's — 
but  you  don't  mind  that.^ 

'' '  Break  yours,  you  adoarible  creature  !  I'd  die 
first !  And  as  for  Mary  Hann,  she  will  git  over  it ; 
people's  arts  aint  broakn  so  easy.  Once  for  all, 
suckmstances  is  changed  betwigst  me  and  er.  It's 
a  pang  to  part  with  her  (says  I  my  fine  hi's  filling 
with  tears),  but  part  from  her  I  must.' 

"  It  was  curius  to  remark  abowt  that  singlar  gal, 
Lady  Haxgelixa,  that  melumcolly  as  she  was  when 
she  was  talking  to  me,  and  ever  so  disml — yet  she 
kep  on  lafi&ng  every  minute  like  the  juice  and  all. 

" '  What  a  sacrifice  ! '  says  she.  '  it's  like  Napo- 
LEox  giving  up  Josephine.  What  anguish  it  must 
cause  to  your  susceptible  heart ! ' 

'•' '  It  does,'  says  I — '  Hagnies  !  '  (another  laff.) 

'•'  '"  And  if — if  I  don't  accept  you — you  will  invade 
the  States  of  the  Emperor,  my  Papa  and  I  am  to  be 
made  the  sacrifice  and  the  occasion  of  peace  between 
you! ' 


JEAMISSS    DIARY. 


" '  I  don't  know  what  you're  eludiug  to  about 
JosEYFEEN  aiid  Heiiiperors  your  Pas  ;  but  I  know 
that  your  Pa's  estate  is  over  hedaneers  morgidged  ; 
that  if  some  one  don't  elp  him,  he's  no  better  than  an 
old  pawpcr  :  tfflR  he  owes  me  a  lot  of  money  ;  and 
that  I'm  the  man  that  can  sell  him  up  boss  &  foot  j 
or  set  him  up  agen — thaVs  what  I  know,  Lady  Han- 
GELiNA,'  says  I,  with  a  hair  as  much  as  to  say,  '  Put 
that  in  your  ladyship's  pipe,  and  smoke  it.' 

"  And  so  I  left  her,  and  nex  day  a  serting  fashna- 
ble  paper  enounced — 

"  •  Marriage  in  High  Life. — We  hear  that  a 
matrimonial  union  is  on  the  tapis  between  a  gentle- 
man who  has  made  a  colossal  fortune  in  the  E-ailway 
World,  and  the  only  daughter  of  a  noble  earl,  whose 
estates  are  situated  in  D — ddles — x.  An  early  day 
is  fixed  for  this  interesting  event.' " 


•'  CoNTRY  to  my  expigtations  (but  when  or  ow 
can  we  reckn  upon  the  fealinx  of  wimming  ?)  Mary 
Hann  didn't  seem  to  be  much  efected  by  the  hideer  of 
m}-  marridge  with  Hangelinar.  I  was  rayther  dis- 
apinted  peraps  that  the  fickle  young  gal  reckumsiled 
herself  so  easy  to  giving  me  hup,  for  we  Gents  are 
creechers  of  vanaty  after  all,  as  well  as  those  of  the 
hopsit  seeks  :  &  betwigst  you  &  me  there  ivas  mo- 
minx,  when  I  almost  whisht   that  I  'd  been  borne  a 


JEAMES'S    DIARY.  65 


Mjommidn  or  Turk,  when  the  Lor  would  have  per- 
mitted me  to  marry  both  these  sweet  beinx,  where- 
has  I  was  now  condemd  to  be  appy  with  ony  one. 

"  Meanwild  every-think  went  on  very  agreeble  be- 
twigst  me  and  my  defianced  bride.  When  we  came 
back  to  town  I  kemishnd  Mr.  Showery  the  great 
Hoctionear  to  look  out  for  a  town  manshing  sootable 
for  a  gent  of  my  quality.  I  got  from  the  Erald 
Hofi&s  (not  the  Mawning  Erald — no  no,  I  'm  not 
such  a  Mough  as  to  go  there  for  ackrit  infamation) 
an  account  of  my  famly,  my  harms  &  pedigry. 

"  I  bordered  in  Long  Hacre,  three  splendid  equi- 
pidges,  on  which  my  arms  and  my  adord  wife's  was 
drawn  &  quartered  ;  and  I  got  portricks  of  me  and 
her  paynted  by  the  sellabrated  Mr.  Shalloon,  being 
resolved  to  be  the  gentleman  in  all  things,  and  know- 
ing that  my  character  as  a  man  of  fashn  wasn't  com- 
pleat  unless  I  sat  to  that  distinguished  Hartist.  My 
likenis  I  presented  to  Hangelina.  Its  not  consid- 
ered '  flattering — here  it  is — and  though  sJie  parted 
with  it,  as  you  will  hear,  mighty  willingly,  there  's 
one  young  lady  (a  thousand  times  handsomer)  that 
values  it  as  the  happle  of  her  hi." 

"Would  any  man  beleave  that  this  picture  was 
soald  at  my  sale  for  about  a  twenty-fifth  part  of  what 
it  cost  ?  It  was  bought  in  by  Maryhann,  though : — 
'  0  dear  Jeames,'  she  says  often,  (kissing  of  it  &  press- 
ing it  to  her  art)  '  it  isn't  \  ansum  enough  for  you,  and 


66  JEAMES'S    DIARY. 


hasn't  got  your  angellick  smile  and  the  igspreshun  of 
your  dear  dear  i's.'  " 

"  Hangelina's  pictur  was  kindly  presented  to  me 
by  Countess  B.,  her  mamma,  though  of  coarse,  I  paid 
for  it.  It  was  engraved  for  the  Booh  of  Bewty  this 
year  :  and  here  is  a  proof  of  the  etching : — 

"  With  such  a  perfusion  of  ringlits  I  should  scarcely 
have  known  her — but  the  ands,  feat,  and  i's,  is  very 
like.  She  was  painted  in  a  gitar  supposed  to  be  sing- 
ing one  of  my  little  melladies  ;  and  her  brother 
Southdown,  who  is  one  of  the  New  England  poits, 
wrote  the  follering  stanzys  about  her  : — 

LINES  UPON  MY  SISTER'S  PORTRAIT. 

BY     THE     LORD     SOUTHDOWN. 

Tlie  Castle  towers  of  Bareacres  are  fair  upon  the  lea, 

Where  the  cliffs  of  bonny  Diddlesex  rise  up  from  out  the  sea : 

I  stood  upon  the  donjon  keep  and  view'd  the  country  o'er, 

I  saw  the  lands  of  Bareacres  for  fifty  miles  or  more. 

I  stood  upon  the  donjon  keep — it  is  a  sacred  place, — 

Where  floated  for  eight  hundred  years  the  banner  of  my  race; 

Argent,  a  dexter  sinople,  and  gules  an  azure  field, 

There  ne'er  was  nobler  cognizance  on  knightly  warrior's  shield. 

The  first  time  England  saw  the  shield  'twas  round  a  Xorniiui 

neck, 
On  board  a  ship  from  Yalery,  King  William  was  on  deck. 
A  Norman  lance  the  colors  wore,  in  Hasting's  fatal  fray — 
St.   Willibald  for  Bareacres !  'twas  double  gules  that  day ! 


JEAMES  S    DIARY. 


67 


0  Heavcu  and  sweet  St.  "Willibald  !  in  may  a  battle  since 
A  loyal-hearted  Bareacres  has  ridden  by  his  Prince  ! 
At  Acre  with  Plaxtagenet,  with  Edward  at  Poitiers, 
The  pennon  of  the  Bareacres  was  foremost  on  the  spears ! 

'Twas  pleasant  in  the  battle-shock  to  hear  our  war-cry  ringing  s 
0 !  grant  me,  sweet  Saint  Willibald,  to  listen  to  such  singing ! 
Three  hundred  steel-clad  gentlemen,  we  drove  the  foe  before  us, 
And  thirty  score  of  British  bows  kept  twanging  to  the  chorus ! 
O  knights,  my  noble  ancestors  1  and  shall  I  never  hear 
Saint  Willibald  for  Bareacres  through  battle  ringing  clear  ? 
I'd  cut  me  off  this  strong  right  hand  a  single  hour  to  ride. 
And  strike  a  blow  for  Bareacres,  my  fathers,  at  your  side  ! 

Dash  down,  dash  down,  yon  Mandolin,  beloved  sister  mine ! 
Those  blushing  lips  may  never  sing  the  glories  of  our  line : 
Our  ancient  castles  echo  to  the  clumsy  feet  of  churls, 
The  spinning  Jenny  houses  in  the  mansion  of  our  Earls. 
Sing  not,  sing  not,  my  Angeline  !    in  days  so  base  and  vile, 
'Twere  sinful  to  be  happy,    'twere  sacrilege  to  smile. 
I'll  hie  me  to  my  lonely  hall,  and  by  its  cheerless  hob 
I'll  muse  on  other  days,  and  wish — ^and  wish  I  were — A  Snob. 

"  All  young  Hengland,  I'm  told,  considers  the  po- 
im  bewtifle.  They're  always  writing  about  battleaxis 
and  shivvlery,  these  young  chaps;  but  the  ideer  of 
Southdown  in  a  shoot  of  armer,  and  his  cuttin  hofif 
his  'strong  right  hand,'  is  rayther  too  good  ;  the  fel- 
ler is  about  5  fit  hi, — as  ricketty  as  a  babby,  with  a 
vaist  like  a  gal, — and  though  he  may  have  the  art 
and  curridge  of  a  Bengal  tyger,  I'd  back  my  smallest 


68  JEAMES'S    DIARY. 


cab-boy   to  lick  him, — that  is,  \i  \  ad   a   cab-boy. 
But  io  !  Qny  cab-days  is  over." 


"  Be  still  my  hagnizing  Art !  I  now  am  about  to 
hunfoald  the  dark  payges  of  the  Istry  of  my  life  !  " 

"  My  frends  !  you've  seen  me  ither2  in  the  full 
kerear  of  Fortn,  prawsprus  but  not  hover  prowd  of 
my  prawsperraty ;  not  dizzy  though  mounted  on  the 
haypix  of  Good  Luck — feasting  hall  the  great  (like 
the  Good  Old  Henglish  Gent  in  the  song,  which  he 
has  been  my  moddle  and  igsample  through  life)  but 
not  forgitting  the  small — No,  my  beayviour  to  my 
granmother  at  Healing  shows  that.  I  bot  her  a  new 
donkey  cart  (what  the  French  call  a  cart-blansh)  and 
a  handsome  set  of  peggs  for  anging  up  her  linning, 
and  treated  Huncle  Jim  to  a  new  shoot  of  close,  which 
he  ordered  in  St.  Jeames's  Street,  much  to  the  es- 
tonishment  of  my  Snyder  there,  namely  an  ollif-grcen 
velvyteen  jackit  and  smalclose,  and  a  crimsn  plush 
weskoat  with  glas-buttns.  These  pints  of  genarawsaty 
in  my  disposishn  I  never  should  have  eluded  to,  but 
to  show  that  I  am  naturally  of  a  noble  sort ;  and 
have  that  kind  of  galliant  carridge  which  is  equel  to 
either  good  or  bad  forting. 

"  What  was  the  substns  of  my  last  chapter  ?  In 
that  every  think  was  prepayred  for  my  marridge — the 
consent  of  the  parents  of  ray  Hangelina  was  gaynd, 


JEAMES'S    DIARY.  09 


the  lovely  gal  herself  was  ready  (as  I  thought)  to  be 
led  to  Himing's  halter — the  trooso  was  hordered — the 
wedding  dressis  were  being  phitted  hon — a  weddin- 
kake  weighing  half  a  tunn  was  a  gettn  reddy  by  Me- 
suRS  GrUNTER,  of  Buckley-scjuare  ;  there  was  such  an 
account  for  Shantilly  and  Honiton  laces  as  would 
have  staggerd  hennybody  (I  know  they  did  the  Com- 
missioner when  I  came  hup  for  my  Stiffikit)  and  has 
for  Injar-shawls  I  bawt  a  dozen  sicli  fine  ones  as  never 
was  given  away — no  not  by  His  Iness  the  Injan  Prins 
Juggernaut  Tygore.  The  juils  (a  pearl  and  dimind 
shoot)  were  from  the  extablishmint  of  Mysurs  Storr 
AND  Mortimer.  The  honey-moon  I  intended  to  pass 
in  a  continentle  excussion,  and  was  in  treaty  for  the 
ouse  at  Halberd-gate  (hopsit  Mr.  Hudson's)  as  my 
town-house.  I  waited  to  cumclude  the  putehis  untie 
the  Share-Markit  which  was  rayther  deprest  (oiag  T 
think  not  so  much  to  the  atax  of  the  misrabble  Times. 
as  to  the  prodidjus  flams  of  the  Morning  Erald)  was 
restored  to  its  elthy  toan.  I  wasn't  goin  to  part  with 
scrip  which  was  20  primmium  at  2  or  3  :  and  bein 
confidnt  that  the  Markit  would  rally,  had  bought  very 
largely  for  the  two  or  three  new  accounts. 

"  This  will  explane  to  those  unfortnight  traydsmen 
to  womb  I  gayv  orders  for  a  large  igstent  ow  it  was 
that  I  couldn't  pay  their  accounts,  /am  the  soal 
of  onour — but  no  gent  can  pay  when  he  has  no  money  ; 
— ^it's  not  my  fault  if  that  old  screw  Lady  Bareacres 


70  JEAMES's    DIARY. 


cabbidged  three  hundred  yards  of  lace,  and  kep  back 
4  of  the  biggest  diminds  and  seven  of  the  largist 
Injar  Shawls — it's  not  my  fault  if  the  tradespeople 
didn  git  their  goods  back,  and  that  Lady  B.  declared 
they  were  lost.  I  began  the  world  afrech  with  the 
^lose  on  my  back,  and  thirteen  and  six  in  money, 
concealing  nothink.  giving  up  heverythink,  Onist  and 
undismayed,  and  though  beat,  with  pluck  in  me  still, 
and  ready  to  begin  agin. 

"  Well — it  was  the  day  before  that  apinted  for 
my  Unium.  The  Ringdove  steamer  was  lying  at 
Dover  ready  to  carry  us  hoff.  The  Bridle  apartmince 
had  been  bordered  at  Salt  Hill,  and  subsquintly  at 
Balong  sur  Mare — the  very  table  cloth  was  laid  for 
the  weddn  brexfst  in  111  Street,  and  the  Bride's  Right 
Reverend  Huncle,  the  Lord  Bishop  of  Bullock- 
smithy,  had  arrived  to  sellabrayt  our  unium.  All 
the  papers  were  full  of  it.  Crowds  of  the  fashnable 
world  went  to  see  the  trooso  and  admire  the  Car- 
ridges  in  Long  Hacre.  Our  travleng  charrat  (light 
bloo  lined  with  pink  satting,  and  vermillium  and  goold 
weals)  was  the  hadmaration  of  all  for  quiet  ellygns. 
V/e  were  to  travel  only  4,  viz.,  me,  my  lady,  my 
vally,  and  Mary  Hann  as  famdyshamber  to  my^  Han- 
GELLNA.  Far  from  oposing  our  match,  this  worthy 
gal  had  quite  givn  into  it  of  late,  and  laught  and 
joakt,  and  enjoyd  our  plans  for  the  fewter  igseed- 
inkly. 


JEAMES'S    DIARY.  71 


"  I'd  left  my  lovely  Bride  very  gay  the  night  be- 
fore— aving  a  multachewd  of  bisniss  ou.  and  Stock- 
brokers &  bankers'  accounts  to  settle  ;  atsettrey  at- 
settrey.  It  was  layt  befor  I  got  these  in  border  :  my 
sleap  was  feavrish.  as  most  mens  is  when  they  are 
going  to  be  marrid  or  to  be  hanged.  I  took  njy 
chocklit  in  bed  about  one  :  tride  on  my  wedding  close, 
and  found  as  ushle  that  they  became  me  exeedingly. 

'•  One  thing  distubbed  my  mind — two  weskts  had 
been  sent  home.  A  blush-white  satting  and  gold, 
and  a  kinary  coloured  tabbinet  imbridered  in  silver  ; 
— which  should  I  wear  on  the  hospicious  day  ?  This 
hadgitated  and  perplext  me  a  good  deal.  I  detum- 
mined  to  go  down  to  Hill  Street  and  cumsult  the 
Lady  whose  wishis  were  henceforth  to  be  my  hallin- 
all ;  and  wear  whichever  she  phixt  on. 

*•  There  was  a  great  bussel  and  distubbans  in  the 
Hall  in  111  Street :  which  I  etribyouted  to  the 
eproaching  event.  The  old  porter  stared  most  un- 
common when  I  kem  in —  the  footman  who  was  to 
enounce  me  laft  I  thought — I  was  going  up  stairs — 

"  '  Her  ladyship's  not — not  at  horned;  says  the 
man  :  •  and  my  lady's  hill  in  bed.' 

•• '  Git  lunch.'  says  I.  '  I'll  wait  till  Lady  Haxge- 
LiXA  returns.' 

'■  At  this  the  feller  loox  at  me  for  a  momint  with 
his  cheex  blown  out  like  a  bladder,  and  then  busts 
out   in  a   reglar  guffau  !   the   porter  jined   in   it,  the 


72  JEAMES'S    DIARY. 


impident  old  raskle ;  and  Thomas  says,  slapping  his 
and  on  his  thy,  without  the  least  respect — '  /  say^ 
Hifffy.  old  boy  !  isn't  this  a  good  tin  ?  ' 

'•  Wadyermean,  you  infunnle  scoundrel,"  says  I. 
"  hollaring  and  laffing  at  me  ?  " 

" '  0  here's  Miss  Mary  Hann  coming  up,'  says 
Thomas,  '  ask  her^ — and  indeed  there  came  my  little 
Mary  Hann  tripping  down  the  stairs — her  &s  in  her 
pockits  ;  and  when  she  saw  me  she  began  to  blush  & 
look  hod  &  then  to  grin  too. 

"  'In  the  name  of  Imperence,  says  I,  rushing  on 
Thomas,  and  collaring  him  fit  to  throttle  him — '  no 
raskle  of  a  flunky  shall  insult  me.^  and  I  sent  him 
staggerin  up  aginst  the  porter,  and  both  of  'em  into 
the  hall-chair  with  a  fiopp — when  Mary  Hann,  jump- 
ing down,  says,  '  0  James  !  0  Mr.  Plush  !  read  this' 
— and  she  pulled  out  a  billy  doo. 

"  I  reckanized  the  and-writing  of  Hangelina. 


"  Deseatful  Hangelina' s  billy  ran  as  follows  — 

'' '  I  had  all  along  hoped  that  you  would  have  re- 
linquished pretensions  which  you  must  have  seen 
were  so  disagreeable  to  me ;  and  have  spared  me  the 
painful  necessity  of  the  step  which  I  am  compelled 
to  take.  For  a  long  time  I  could  not  believe  my 
parents   were   serious    in    wishing    to    sacrifice    me, 


JEAMES'S-  DIARY.  73 


but  have  in  vain  entreated  them  to  spare  me.  I 
cannot  undergo  the  shame  and  misery  of  a  union  with 
you.  To  the  very  last  hour  I  remonstrated  in  vain, 
and  only  now  anticipate,  by  a  few  hours,  my  de- 
parture from  the  home  from  which  they  themselves 
were  about  to  expel  me. 

" '  When  you  receive  this,  I  shall  be  united  to  the 
person  to  whom,  as  you  are  aware,  my  heart  was 
given  long  ago.  My  parents  are  already  informed 
of  the  step  I  have  taken.  And  I  have  my  own 
honour  to  consult,  even  before  their  benefit :  they 
will  forgive  me,  I  hope  and  feel,  before  long. 

*' '  As  for  yourself,  may  I  not  hope  that  time  will 
calm  your  exquisite  feelings  too  ?  I  leave  Mary 
Ann  behind  to  console  you.  She  admires  you  as  you 
deserve  to  be  admired,  and  with  a  constancy  which  I 
entreat  you  to  try  and  imitate.  Do,  my  dear  Mr. 
Plush,  try — for  the  sake  of  your  sincere  friend  and 
admirer,  "  '  A.' 

" '  P.  S.  I  leave  the  wedding-dresses  behind  for 
her:  the  diamonds  are  beautiful,  and  will  become 
Mrs.  Plush  admirably.'" 

« 

"  This  was  hall ! — Confewshn  !     And  there  stood 

the  footmen  snigger  in,  and  that  hojous  Mary  Hann 

half  a  cryin,  half  a  laffing  at  me !     '  "Who  has  she 

gone  hoff  with  1 '  rors  I ;    and  Mary  Hann  (smiling 

4 


74  JEAMES'S    DIARY. 


with  one  hi)  just  touched  the  top  of  one  of  the  Johns' 
canes  who  was  goin  out  with  the  noats  to  put  hoff 
the  brekfst.     It  was  Silvertop  then  ! 

"  I  bust  out  of  the  house  in  a  stajt  of  diamonia- 
cal  igsitement ! 

"  The  storry  of  that  iloapmint  /  have  no  art  to 
tell.  Here  it  is  from  the  '  Morning  Tatler '  news- 
paper. 

"ELOPEMENT   IN    HIGH   LIFE. 
"the  oxly  authentic  account. 

'•  The  neighbourhood  of  Berkeley  Square,  and 
the  whole  fashionable  world,  has  been  thrown  into  a 
state  of  the  most  painful  excitement  by  an  event 
which  has  just  placed  a  noble  family  in  great  per- 
plexity and  affliction. 

**  It  has  long  been  known  among  the  select  no- 
bility and  gentry  that  a  marriage  was  on  the  tapis 
between  the  only  daughter  of  a  Noble  Earl,  and  a 
Gentleman  whose  rapid  fortunes  in  the  railway  world 
have  been  the  theme  of  general  remark.  "Yester- 
day's paper,  it  was  supposed  in  all  human  probability 
\YOuld  have  contained  an  account  of  the  marriage  of 
James  De  la  Pl — che,  Esq.,  and  the  Lady  Ange- 
lina   ,  daughter    of  the    Right  Honorable   the 

Earl  of  B — re — cres.  The  preparations  for  this 
ceremony  were  complete  ;  we  had  the  pleasure  of  in- 


JEAMES'S    DIARY,  75 


specting  the  rich  trousseau  (prepared  by  Miss  Twid- 
dler, of  Pall  Mall) ;  the  magnificent  jewels  from  the 
establishment  of  Messrs.  Storr  &  Mortimer;  the 
elegant  marriage  cake,  which,  already  cut  up  and 
portioned,  is,  alas  !  not  destined  to  be  eaten  by  the 
friends  of  Mr.  De  la  Pl — che  ;  the  superb  carriages 
and  magnificent  liveries,  which  had  been  provided  in 
a  style  of  the  most  lavish  yet  tasteful  sumptuosity. 
The  Right  Reverend  the  Lord  Bishop  of  Bullock- 
smithy  had  arrived  in  town  to  celebrate  the  nuptials. 
and  is  staying  at  Miv art's.  What  must  have  been 
the  feelings  of  that  venerable  prelate,  what  those  of 
the  agonised  and  noble  parents  of  the  Lady  Ange- 
LiXA — when  it  was  discovered,  on  the  day  previous  to 
the  wedding,  that  ber  Ladyship  had  fled  the  paternal 
mansion  !  To  the  venerable  Bishop  the  news  of  his 
noble  niece's  departure  might  have  been  fatal :  we 
have  it  from  the  waiters  of  Miv art's  that  his  Lord- 
ship was  about  to  indulge  in  the  refreshment  of 
turtle  soup  when  the  news  was  brought  to  him  :  im- 
mediate apoplexy  was  apprehended  ;  but  Mr.  Ma- 
CANN,  the  celebrated  Surgeon,  of  Westminster,  was 
luckily  passing  through  Bond  Street  at  the  time,  and 
being  promptly  called  in,  bled  and  relieved  the  exem- 
plary patient.  His  Lordship  will  return  to  the 
Palace,  Bullocksmithy,  to-morrow. 

'•  The  frantic  agonies  of  the  Bight  Honorable  the 
Earl  of  Bareacres  can  be  imagined  by  every  pater- 


76  JEAMES'S    DIARY. 


nal  heart.     Far  be  it  from  us  to  disturb — impossible  is 
it  for  us  to  describe  their  noble  sorrow.     Our  reporters 
have  made  inquiries  every  ten  minutes  at  the  Earl's 
mansion  in  Hill  Street,  regarding  the  health  of  the 
Noble  Peer  and  his  incomparable  Countess.     They 
have  been  received  with  a  rudeness  which  we  deplore 
but  pardon.     One  was  threatened  with  a  cane ;  an- 
other, in  the    pursuit    of  his   official    inquiries,  was 
saluted  with  a  pail  of  water  ;    a  third  gentleman  was 
menaced  in  a  pugilistic   manner  by  his   Lordship's 
porter  :  but  being  of  the  Irish  nation,  a  man  of  spirit 
and  sinew,  and  Master  of  Arts  of  Trinity  College, 
Dublin,   the   gentleman    of   our    establishment   con- 
fronted the  menial,  and  having  severely  beaten  him, 
retired  to  a  neighbouring  hotel  much  frequented  by 
the  domestics  of  the  surrounding  nobility,  and  there 
obtained  what  we  believe  to  be  the  most  accurate 
PARTICULARS  of  this  extraordinary  occurrence. 

'•  G-EORGE  Frederick  Jennings,  third  footman  in 
the  establishment  of  Lord  Bareacres,  stated  to  our 
employ^  as  follows : — Lady  Angelina  had  been 
promised  to  Mr.  De  la  Pluche  for  near  six  weeks. 
She  never  could  abide  that  gentleman.  He  was  the 
laughter  of  all  the  servants'  hall.  Previous  to  his 
elevation  he  had  himself  been  engaged  in  a  domestic 
capacity.  At  that  period  he  had  offered  marriage  to 
Mary  Ann  Hoggins,  who  was  living  in  the  quality 
of  ladies'  maid  in  the  family  where  Mr.  De  la  P. 


JEAMES'S    DIARY.  77 


was  employed.  Miss  Hoggins  became  subsequently 
ladies'  maid  to  Lady  Angelina — the  elopement  was 
arranged  between  those  two. — It  was  Miss  Hoggins 
who  delivered  the  note  which  informed  the  bereaved 
Mr.  Plush  of  his  loss. 

"  Samuel  Buttons,  page  to  the  Right  Honorable 
the  Earl  of  Bareacres,  was  ordered  on  Friday 
forenoon,  at  eleven  o'clock,  to  fetch  a  cabriolet  from 
the  stand  in  Davies  Street.  He  selected  the  cab  No. 
19,796.  driven  by  George  Gregory  Macarty,  a  one- 
eyed  man  from  Clonakilty.  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
Cork,  Ireland  (of  whom  more  anon),  and  waited,  ac- 
cording to  his  instructions,  at  the  corner  of  Berkeley 
Square  with  the  vehicle.  His  young  lady,  accompa- 
nied by  her  maid.  Miss  Mary  Ann  Hoggins,  carry- 
ing a  band-box,  presently  arrived,  and  entered  the 
cab  with  the  box :  what  were  the  contents  of  that 
box  we  have  never  been  able  to  ascertain.  On  ask- 
ing her  ladyship  whether  he  should  order  the  cab  to 
drive  in  any  particular  direction,  he  was  told  to  drive 
to  Madame  Crinoline's,  the  eminent  milliner,  in 
Cavendish  Square.  On  requesting  to  know  whether 
he  should  accompany  her  ladyship,  Buttons  was  per- 
emptorily ordered  by  Miss  Hoggins  to  go  about  his 
business. 

"  Having  now  his  clue,  our  reporter  instantly 
went  in  search  of  cab  19,796,  or  rather  of  the  driver 
of  that  vehicle,  who  was  discovered  with  no  small  dif- 


JEAMES  S    DIARY. 


ficulty  at  his  residence,  Whetstone  Park,  Lincoln's 
Inn  Fields,  where  he  lives  with  his  family  of  nine 
children.  Having  received  two  sovereigns,  instead, 
doubtless,  of  two  shillings  (his  regular  fare,  by  the 
way,  would  have  been  only  one  and  eightpence), 
Macarty  had  not  gone  out  with  the  cab  for  the  last 
two  days,  passing  them  in  a  state  of  almost  ceaseless 
intoxication.  His  replies  were  very  incoherent  in 
answer  to  the  queries  of  our  reporter:  and,  had  not 
that  gentleman  been  himself  a  compatriot,  it  is  proba- 
ble he  would  have  refused  altogether  to  satisfy  the 
curiosity  of  the  public. 

"  At  Madame  Crinoline's,  Miss  Hoggins  quitted 
the  carriage,  and  a  gentleman  entered  it.  Macarty 
describes  him  as  a  very  clever  gentleman  (meaning 
tall),  with  black  moustaches,  Oxford-grey  trousers, 
and  black  hat  and  a  pea-coat.  He  drove  the  couple 
to  the  Euston  Square  Station^  and  there  left  them. 
How  he  employed  his  time  subsequently,  we  have 
stated. 

"  At  the  Euston  Square  Station,  the  gentleman 
of  our  establishment  learned  from  Frederick  Cor- 
duroy, a  porter  there,  that  a  gentleman  answering 
the  above  description  had  taken  places  to  Derby 
We  have  despatched  a  confidential  gentleman 
thither,  by  a  special  train,  and  shall  give  his  report 
in  a  second  edition. 


JEAMES'S    DIAPcY.  79 


''SECOND  EDITION. 

"  (from  our  reporter.) 

' "  Newcastle^  Monday. 

" '  I  am  just  arrived  at  this  ancient  town,  at  the 
Elephant  and  Cucumber  Hotel.  A  party  travelling 
under  the  name  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Jones,  the  gentle- 
man wearing  moustaches,  and  having  with  them  a 
blue  band-box,  arrived  by  the  train  two  hours  before 
me,  and  have  posted  onwards  to  Scotland.  I  have 
ordered  four  horses,  and  write  this  on  the  hind-boot, 
as  they  are  putting  to.' 


••  THIRD  EDITION. 

*' '  Grei7ia  Green.  Monday  Evening. 
"  '  The  mystery  is  at  length  solved.  This  after- 
noon, at  four  o'clock,  the  Hymeneal  Blacksmith,  of 
Gretna  Green,  celebrated  the  marriage  between 
George  Gp^axby  Silvertop,  Esq..  a  Lieutenant  in 
.the  150th  Hussars,  third  son  of  General  John  Sil- 
vertop, of  Silvertop  Hall.  Yorkshire,  and  Lady 
Emily  Silvertop,  daughter  of  the  late  sister  of 
the  present  Eaf^l  of  Bareacres,  and  the  Lady 
Angelina  Amelia    Arethusa    Anaconda   Alexan- 


80  JEAMES'S    DIARY. 


DEiNA  Alicompania  Annemaria  Antoinetta,  daugh- 
ter of  the  last  named  Earl  Bareacres.' 

[Here  follows  a  long  Extract  from  the  Marriage 
Service  in  the  Book  of  Common  Prayer^ 
which  was  not  read  on  the  occasion^  and 
need  not  be  repeated  here.) 

"  After  the  ceremony,  the  young  couple  partook 
of  a  slight  refreshment  of  sherry  and  water — the 
former,  the  Captain  pronounced  to  he  execrable ; 
and.  having  myself  tasted  some  glasses  from  the 
very  same  bottle  with  which  the  young  and  noble 
pair  were  served,  T  must  say  I  think  the  Captain  was 
rather  hard  upon  mine  host  of  the  Bagpipes  Hotel 
and  Posting  House,  whence  they  instantly  pro- 
ceeded. I  follow  them  as  soon  as  the  horses  have 
fed. 


''FOURTH  EDITION, 

"  SHAMEFUL  TREATMENT  OP  OUR  REPORTER. 

"  '  Whistlebinkie,  N.  B.,  Monday,  midnight.    ' 

•' '  I  arrived  at  this  romantic  little  villa  about 

two    hours   after   the   newly-married    couple,   whose 

progress  I  have  had   the  honour  to  trace,  reached 

Whistlebinkie.     They  have  taken  up  their  residence 


JEAMES'S    DIARY.  81 


at    the    Cairngorm   iVrms — mine    are    at    the    other 
hostelry,  the  Clachan  of  Whistlebinkie. 

"  ■  On  driving  up  to  the  Cairngorm  Arms,  I  found 
a  gentleman  of  military  appearance  standing  at  the 
door,  and  occupied  seemingly  in  smoking  a  cigar.  It 
was  very  dark  as  I  descended  from  my  carriage,  and 
the  gentleman  in  question  exclaimed,  '  Is  it  you. 
Southdown,  my  boy  ?  You  have  come  too  late  : 
unless  you  are  come  to  have  some  supper ; '  or  words 
to  that  effect.  I  explained  that  I  was  not  the  Lord 
Viscount  Southdown,  and  politely  apprised  Captain 
SiLVERTOP  (for  I  justly  concluded  the  individual 
before  me  could  be  no  other)  of  his  mistake. 

'• '  Who  the  deuce  (the  Captain  used  a  stronger 
term)  are  you,  then?'  said  Mr.  Silvertop.  ''Are 
you  Baggs  &  Tapewell,  my  uncle's  attorneys  ?  If 
you  are.  you  have  come  too  late  for  the  fair.' 

•• '  I  briefly  explained  that  I  was  not  Baggs  & 
Tape  well,  but  that  my  name  was  J — ns,  and  that  I 
was  a  gentleman  connected  with  the  Establishment 
of  the  Morning  Taller  newspaper. 

'•'  And  what  has  brought  you  here,  Mr.  Morning 
Tatler?'  asked  my  interlocutor,  rather  roughly. 
My  answer  was  frank — that  the  disappearance  of  a 
noble  lady  from  the  house  of  her  friends  had  caused 
the  greatest  excitement  in  the  metropolis,  and  that 
my  employers  were  anxious  to  give  the  public  every 
particular  regarding  an  event  so  singular. 


4* 


82  JEAMES'S    DIARY. 


"  '  And  do  you  mean  to  say.  sir,  that  you  have 
dogged  me  all  the  way  from  London,  and  that  my 
family  affairs  are  to  be  published  for  the  readers  of 
the    Morning    Tatler   newspaper  ?      The    Mornijig 

Tatler  be (the  Captain  here  gave  utterance  to 

an  oath  which  I  shall  not  repeat)  and  you  too,  sir  ; 
you  impudent  meddling  scoundrel.' 

"  '  Scoundrel,  sir  ! '  said  I.  '  Yes,'  replied  the 
irate  gentleman,  seizing  me  rudely  by  the  collar — ■ 
and  he  would  have  choked  me,  but  that  my  blue 
satin  stock  and  false  collar  gave  way,  and  were  left 
in  the  hands  of  this  gentleman.  '  Help,  landlord  ! ' 
I  loudly  exclaimed,  adding,  I  believe,  '  murder,'  and 
other  exclamations  of  alarm.  In  vain  I  appealed  to 
the  crowd,  which  by  this  time  was  pretty  considera- 
ble ;  they  and  the  unfeeling  post-boys  only  burst  into 
laughter,  and  called  out,  '  Give  it  him.  Captain.'  A 
struggle  ensued,  in  which,  I  have  no  doubt,  I  should 
have  had  the  better,  but  that  the  Captain,  joining 
suddenly  in  the  general  and  indecent  hilarity,  which 
was  doubled  when  I  fell  down,  stopped,  and  said, 
'  Well,  Jims,  I  won't  fight  on  my  marriage-day.  Go 
into  the  tap,  Jims,  and  order  a  glass  of  brandy  and 
water  at  my  expense — and  mind  I  don't  see  your 
face  to-morrow  morning,  or  I'll  make  it  more  ugly 
than  it  is.' 

"  With  these  gross  expressions  and  a  cheer  from 
the  crowd,  Mr.  Silvertop  entered  the  inn.     I  need 


JEAMES'S    DIARY.  83 


not  say  that  I  did  not  partake  of  his  hospitality,  and 
that  personally  I  despise  his  insults.  I  make  them 
known  that  they  may  call  down  the  indignation  of 
the  body  of  which  I  am  a  member,  and  throw  myself 
on  the  sympathy  of  the  public,  as  a  gentleman  shame- 
fully assaulted  and  insulted  in  the  discharge  of  a 
public  duty." 


"  Thus  you've  sean  how  the  flower  of  my  affeck- 
shns  was  tawn  out  of  my  busm,  and  my  art  was  left 
bleading.  Haxgelixa  !  I  forgive  thee.  Mace  thoube 
appy  !  If  ever  artfelt  prayer  for  others  wheel  awail- 
ed  on  i,  the  beink  on  womb  you  trampled  addresses 
those  subblygations  to  Evn  in  your  be^  ! 

"  I  went  home  like  a  maniack,  after  hearing  the 
enouncement  of  Hangelina's  departer.  She'd  been 
gone  twenty  hours  when  I  heard  the  fatle  noose. 
Purshoot  was  vain.  Suppose  I  did  kitch  her  up, 
they  were  married,  and  what  could  we  do?  This 
sensable  remark  I  made  to  Earl  Bareacres,  when 
that  distragted  nobleman  igspawstulated  with  me. 
Er  who  was  to  have  been  my  mother-in  lor,  the 
Countiss,  I  never  from  that  momink  sor  agin.  My 
presnts,  troosoes,  juels.  &c.,  were  sent  back — with 
the  igsepshin  of  the  diminds  &  Cashmear  shawl, 
which  her  Ladyship  coodnH  find.  Ony  it  was  wisp- 
erd  that  at  the  nex  buthday  she  was  seen  with  a 
shawl  igsackly  of  the  same  pattu.     Let  er  keep  it. 


84 

"  Southdown  was  phurius.  He  came  to  me  hafter 
the  ewent,  and  wanted  me  to  adwance  501b,  so  that 
he  might  purshew  his  fewgitif  sister — but  I  wasn't  to 
be  ad  with  that  sort  of  chaugh — there  was  no  more 
money  for  that  famly.  So  he  went  away,  and  gave 
huttrance  to  his  feelinx  in  a  poem,  which  appeared 
(price  2  guineas)  in  the  Bel  Asombly. 

"  All  the  juilers,  manchumakers,  lacemen,  coch 
bilders,  apolstrers,  hors  dealers,  and  weddencake 
makers  came  pawring  in  with  their  bills,  haggra- 
vating  feelings  already  woondid  beyond  enjurants. 
That  madniss  didn't  seaze  me  that  night  was  a 
mussy.  Fever,  fewry,  and  rayge  rack'd  my  hagnized 
braind,  and  drove  sleap  from  my  throbbink  ilids. 
Hall  night  I  follored  Hangelinar  in  imadganation 
along  the  North  Road.  I  wented  cusses  &  mally- 
dickshuns  on  the  hinfamus  Silvertop.  I  kickd  and 
rored  in  my  unhuttarable  whoe  !  I  seazd  my  pillar  ; 
I  pitcht  into  it :  pummld  it,  strangled  it,  ha  har  !  I 
thought  it  was  Silvertop  writhing  in  my  Jint  grasp  ; 
and  taw  the  hordayshis  Villing  lim  from  lim  in  the 

terrable  strenth  of  my  de spare  ! Let 

me  drop  a  cutting  over  the  memries  of  that  night. 
When  my  boddy-suvnt  came  with  my  Ot  water  in 
the  mawning,  the  livid  Copse  in  the  charnill  was  not 
payler  than  the  gashly  De  la  Pluche  ! 

" '  Grive  me  the  Share-list,  Mandeville,'  I  mican- 
ickly  igsclaimed.     I  had  not  perused  it  for  the  3  past 


JEAMES'S    DIARY.  85 


days,  my  etention  being  engayged  elseware.  Heyns 
&  huth  ! — what  was  it  I  red  there  ?  "What  \Ya5  it 
that  made  me  spring  outabed  as  if  sumbady  had  given 
me  cold  pig  ? — I  red  Rewix  in  that  Share-list — the 

Pannick  was  in  full  hoparation  ! 

***** 

"  Shall  I  discribe  that  Kitastrafy  with  which  hall 
Hengland  is  fimilliar  ?  My  &  rifewses  to  cronnicle 
the  misfortns  which  lassarated  my  bleeding  art  in 
Hoctober  last.  On  the  fust  of  Hawgust  where  was 
I  ?  Director  of  twenty-three  Companies  :  older  of 
scrip  hall  at  a  primmium.  and  worth  at  least  a  quar- 
ter of  a  millium.  On  Lord  Mare's  day.  my  Saint 
Helena's  quotid  at  1 4  pm,  were  down  at  ^  discount ; 
my  Central  Ichaboes  at  |  discount :  my  Table  Mount- 
ing &  Hottentot  Grand  Trunk,  no  where  :  my 
Bathershins  and  Derrynane  Beg,  of  which  I'd  bought 
2000  for  the  account  at  17  primmium  down  to  nix; 
my  Juan  Fernandez,  &  my  Great  Central  Oregons 
prostrit.  There  was  a  momint  when  I  thought  I 
shouldn't  be  alive  to  write  my  own  tail !  " 

(Here  follow  in  Mr.  Plush's  MS.  about  twenty- 
our  pages  of  railroad  calculations,  which  we  pre- 
termit.) 

"  Those  beests.  Pump  &  Aldgate,  once  so  cring- 
ing and  umble,  wrote  me  a  threatnen  letter  because  I 
overdrew  my  account  three-and-sixpence  :  woodn't 
advance  me  five  thousnd  on  250000  worth  of  scrip  ; 


JEAMES  S    DIARY. 


kep  me  waiting  2  hours  wlien  I  asked  to  see  the 
house  ;  and  then  sent  out  Spout,  the  jewnior  partner, 
saying  they  woodn't  discount  ray  paper,  and  implawed 
me  to  clothes  my  account.  I  did  :  I  paid  the  three- 
and-six  ballince,  and  never  sor  'em  mor. 

"  The  market  fell  daily.  The  Rewin  grew  wusser 
and  wusser.  Hagnies,  Hagnies  !  It  wasn't  in  the 
city  aloan  my  misfortns  came  upon  me.  They  beerd- 
ed  me  in  my  own  Orae.  The  Biddle  who  kips  watch 
at  the  Halbany  wodn  keep  Misfortn  out  of  my 
chambers  ;  and  Mrs.  Twiddler,  of  Pall  Mall,  and 
Mr.  HuNX,  of  Long  Acre,  put  egsicution  into  my 
apartmince,  and  swep  off  every  stick  of  my  furniture. 
'  Wardrobe  &  furniture  of  a  man  of  fashion.'  What 
an  adwertisement  George  Robins  did  make  of  it ; 
and  what  a  crowd  was  collected  to  laff  at  the  pros- 
pick  of  my  ruing !  My  chice  plait ;  my  seller  of 
wine  ;  my  picturs — that  of  myself  included  (it  was 
Maryhann,  bless  her  !  that  bought  it,  unbeknown  to 
me) ;  all— all  went  to  the  ammer.  That  brootle 
FiTZWARREN,  my  ex-vally,  womb  I  met,  fimilliarly 
slapt  me  on  the  sholder,  and  said,  '  Jeames,  my  boy, 
you'd  best  go  into  suvvis  aginn.'  " 

"  I  did  go  into  suvvis — the  wust  of  all  suvvices — 
I  went  into  the  Queen's  Bench  Prison,  and  lay  there 
a  misrabble  captif  for  6  mortial  weeks.  Misrabble 
shall  I  say  ?  no,  not  misrabble  altogether  ;  there  was 
sunlike  in  the  dunjing  of  the  pore  prisner.     I  had 


JEAMES'S    DIARY.  87 


visitors.  A  cart  used  to  drive  hup  to  the  prizn  gates 
of  Saturdays  ;  a  washywoman's  cart,  with  a  fat  old 
lady  in  it,  and  a  young  one.  Who  was  that  young 
one  1  Every  one  who  has  an  art  can  guess,  it  was 
my  blue-eyed  blushing  Hangel  of  a  MapcY  Hann  ! 
•  Shall  we  take  him  out  in  the  linnen-basket,  grand- 
mamma ? '  Mary  Hann  said.  Bless  her,  she'd  al- 
ready learned  to  say  grandmamma  quite  natral  ;  but 
I  didn't  go  out  that  way  ;  I  went  out  by  the  door  a 
white-washed  man.  Ho,  what  a  feast  there  was  at 
Healing  the  day  I  came  out !  I'd  thirteen  shillings 
left  when  I'd  bought  the  gold  ring.  I  wasn't  prowd, 
I  turned  the  mangle  for  three  weeks  ;  and  then 
Uncle  Bill  said,  •  Well,  there  is  some  good  in  the 
feller  ;  '  and  it  was  agreed  that  we  should  marry." 

The  Plush  manuscript  finishes  here  ;  it  is  many 
weeks  since  we  saw  the  accomplished  writer,  and  we 
have  only  just  learned  his  fate.  We  are  happy  to 
state  it  is  a  comfortable  and  almost  a  prosperous  one. 

The  Honorable  and  Bight  Beverend  Lionel 
Thistlewood,  Lord  Bishop  of  Bullocksmithy,  was 
mentioned  as  the  uncle  of  Lady  Angelina  Silver- 
top.  Her  elopement  with  her  cousin  caused  deep 
emotion  to  the  venerable  prelate :  he  returned  to  the 
palace  at  BuUocksmithy,  of  which  he  had  been  for 
thirty  years  the  episcopal  ornament,  and  where  he 
married  three  wives,  who  lie  buried  in  his  Cathedral 
Church  of  St.   Boniface,  BuUocksmithy. 


88  .TEAMKs'b    DIARY. 


The  admirable  man  has  rejoined  those  whom  he 
loved.  As  he  was  preparing  a  charge  to  his  clergy  in 
his  study  after  dinner,  the  Lord  Bishop  fell  suddenly 
down  in  a  fit  of  apoplexy ;  his  butler,  bringing  in 
his  accustomed  dish  of  devilled-kidneys  for  supper, 
discovered  the  venerable  form  extended  on  the  Tur- 
key carpet  with  a  glass  of  Madeira  in  his  hand  ;  but 
life  was  extinct :  and  surgical  aid  was  therefore  not 
particularly  useful. 

All  the  late  prelate's  wives  had  fortunes,  which 
the  admirable  man  increased  by  thrift,  the  judicious 
sale  of  leases  which  fell  in  during  his  episcopacy,  &c. 
He  left  three  hundred  thousand  pounds — divided  be- 
tween his  nephew  and  niece — not  a  greater  sum  than 
has  been  left  by  several  deceased  Irish  prelates. 

What  Lord  Southdown  has  done  with  his  share 
we  are  not  called  upon  to  state.  He  has  composed 
an  epitaph  to  the  Martyr  of  Bullocksmithy,  which 
does  him  infinite  credit.  But  we  are  happy  to  state 
that  Lady  Angelina  Silvertop  presented  five  hun- 
dred pounds  to  her  faithful  and  affectionate  servant, 
Mary  Ann  Hoggins,  on  her  marriage  with  Mr. 
James  Plush,  to  whom  her  Ladyship  also  made  a 
handsome  present — namely,  the  lease,  good-will,  and 
fixtures  of  the  "Wheel  of  Fortune"  public  house,  near 
Sheppherd'iS  Market,  May  Fair  :  a  house  greatly  fre- 
quented by  all  the  nobility's  footmen,  doing  a  genteel 


JEAMES'S    DIARY.  89 


stroke  of  business  in  the  neighborhood,  and  jyhere,  as 
we  have  heard,  the   ''Butlers'  Club"  is  held. 

Here  Mr.   Plush  lives   happy  in  a  blooming  and 
interesting  wife  :    reconciled  to  a  middle  sphere  of 
life,  as  he  was  to  a  humbler  and  a  higher  one  before. 
He  has  shaved  off  his  whiskers,  and  accommodates  him- 
self to  an  apron  with  perfect  good  humor.     A  gentle- 
man connected  with  this  establishment  dined  at  the 
"Wheel  of  Fortune,  the  other  day,  and  collected  the 
above  particulars.      Mr.    Plush  blushed  rather,   as 
he  brought  in  the  first  dish,  and  told  his   story  very 
modestly  over  a  pint  of  excellent  port.     He  had  only 
one  thing  in  life  to  complain  of.  he  said — that  a  wit- 
less version  of  his  adventures  had  been  produced  at 
the  Prince's  Theatre,  "without  with  your  leaf  or  by 
your  leaf,"  as  he  expressed  it.     "  Has  for  the  rest," 
the  worthy  fellow  said,    '•  I'm  appy — praps  betwigst 
you  and  me  I'm  in  my  proper  spear.     I  enjy  my  glass 
of  beer  or  port  (with  your  elth  and  my  suvvice  to 
you,  Sir),  quite  as  much  as  my  clarrit  in  my   praws- 
prus  days.      I've  a  good  busniss,  which  is  likely  to 
be  better.     If  a  man  can't  be  appy  with  such  a  wife 
as  my  Mary  Hann,  he's  a  beest :  and  when  a  chris- 
tening takes  place  in  our  famly,  will  you  give  my 
complments  to  Mr.  Punch,  and  ask  him  to  be  god- 
father." 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  EHINB. 


A    LEGEXD    OF    THE    RHINE. 


CHAPTER  L 


It  was  in  the  good  old  days  of  chivalry,  when 
every  mountain  that  bathes  its  shadows  in  the  Rhine 
had  its  castle — not  inhabited  as  now  by  a  few  rats 
and  owls,  nor  covered  with  moss  and  wall-flowers,  and 
funguses,  and  creeping  ivy — no.  no  !  where  the  ivy 
now  clusters  there  grew  strong  portcullis  and  bars  of 
steel ;  where  the  wall-flower  now  quivers  in  the  ram- 
part there  were  silken  banners  embroidered  with  won- 
derful heraldry  ;  men-at-arms  marched  where  now  you 
shall  only  see  a  bank  of  moss  or  a  hideous  black  cham- 
pignon ;  and  in  place  of  the  rats  and  owlets.  I  warrant 
me  there  were  ladies  and  knights  to  revel  in  the  great 
halls,  and  to  feast  and  to  dance,  and  to  make  love 
there.  They  are  passed  away.  Those  old  knights 
and  ladies,  their  golden  hair  first  changed  to  silver, 
and  then  pure  silver  it  dropped  off  and  disappeared 
for  ever;  their  elegant  legs,  so  slim  and  active  in 


94  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 

the  dance,  became  swollen  and  gouty,  and  then,  from 
being  swollen  and  gouty,  dwindled  down  to  bare  bone 
shanks  ;  the  roses  left  their  cheeks,  and  then  their 
cheeks  disappeared,  and  left  their  skulls,  and  then 
their  skulls  powdered  into  dust,  and  all  sign  of  them 
was  gone.  And  as  it  was  with  them  so  shall  it  be 
with  us.  Ho,  seneschal !  fill  me  up  a  cup  of  liquor  ! 
put  sugar  in  it,  good  fellow,  yea,  and  a  little  hot  wa- 
ter— a  very  little,  for  my  soul  is  sad,  as  I  think  of 
those  days  and  knights  of  old. 

They,  too,  have  revelled  and  feasted,  and  where 
are  they  ? — gone  ?  nay,  not  altogether  gone  ;  for  doth 
not  the  eye  catch  glimpses  of  them  as  they  walk  yon- 
der in  the  gray  limbo  of  romance,  shining  faintly  in 
their  coats  of  steel,  wandering  by  the  side  of  long- 
haired ladies,  with  long-tailed  gowns  that  little  pages 
carry.  Yes  ;  one  sees  them  :  the  poet  sees  them  still 
in  the  far  off  Cloudland,  and  hears  the  ring  of  their 
clarions  as  they  hasten  to  battle  or  tourney — and  the 
dim  echoes  of  their  lutes  chanting  of  love  and  fair  la- 
dies !  Gracious  privilege  of  poesy !  It  is  as  the 
Dervish's  collyrium  to  the  eyes,  and  causes  them  to 
see  treasures  that  to  the  sight  of  donkeys  are  invisi- 
ble. Blessed  treasures  of  fancy !  I  would  not  change 
ye  ;  no,  not  for  many  donkey-loads  of  gold.  .  .  Fill 
again,  jolly  seneschal,  thou  brave  wag:  chalk  me  up 
the  produce  on  the  hostel  door — surely  the  spirits  of 
old  are  mixed  up  in  the  wondrous  liquor,  and  gentle 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  95 

Tisions  of  by-gone  princes  and  princesses  look  bland- 
ly down  on  us  from  the  cloudy  perfume  of  the  pipe. 
Do  you  know  in  what  year  the  fairies  left  the  Rhine  ? 
— long  before  Murray's  Guide-Book  was  wrote — long 
before  squat  steamboats,  with  snorting  funnels,  came 
paddling  down  the  stream.  Do  you  not  know  that 
once  upon  a  time  the  appearance  of  eleven  thousand 
British  virgins  was  considered  at  Cologne  as  a  won- 
der ?  Now  there  come  twenty  thousand  such  annu- 
ally, accompanied  by  their  ladies'-maids.  But  of 
them  we  will  say  no  more  —  let  us  back  to  those  who 
went  before  them. 

Many,  many  hundred  thousand  years  ago,  and  at 
the  exact  period  when  chivalry  was  in  full  bloom, 
there  occurred  a  little  history  upon  the  banks  of  the 
Rhine,  which  has  been  already  written  in  a  book,  and 
hence  must  be  positively  true.  'Tis  a  story  of  knights 
and  ladies — of  love  and  battle  and  virtue  rewarded,  a 
story  of  princes  and  noble  lords,  moreover  the  best 
of  company.  Gentles,  an  ye  will,  ye  shall  hear  it. 
Fair  dames  and  damsels,  may  your  loves  be  as  happy 
as  those  of  the  heroine  of  this  romaunt. 

On  the  cold  and  rainy  evening  of  Thursday  the 
26th  of  October,  in  the  year  previously  indicated, 
such  travellers  as  might  have  chanced  to  be  abroad 
in  that  bitter  night,  might  have  remarked  a  fellow- 
wayfarer  journeying  on  the  road  from  Oberwinter 
to  Godesberg.     He  was  a  man  not  tall  in  stature,  but 


96  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 


of  the  most  athletic  proportions,  and  Time,  which  had 
browned  and  furrowed  his  cheek,  and  sprinkled  his 
locks  with  gray,  declared  pretty  clearly  that  He  must 
have  been  acquainted  with  the  warrior  for  some  fifty 
good  years.  He  was  armed  in  mail,  and  rode  a  pow- 
erful and  active  battle-horse,  which  (though  the  way 
the  pair  had  come  that  day  was  long  and  weary  in- 
deed) yet  supported  the  warrior,  his  armour  and 
luggage,  with  seeming  ease.  As  it  was  in  a  friend's 
country,  the  knight  did  not  think  fit  to  wear  his  heavy 
destrier^  or  helmet,  which  hung  at  his  saddlebow 
over  his  portmanteau.  Both  were  marked  with  the 
coronet  of  a  Count ;  and  from  the  crown  which  sur- 
mounted the  helmet,  rose  the  crest  of  his  knight- 
ly race,  an  arm  proper  lifting  a  naked  sword. 

At  his  right  hand  and  convenient  to  the  warrior's 
grasp  hung  his  mangonel  or  mace — a  terrific  weapon 
which  had  shattered  the  brains  of  many  a  turbaned 
soldan ;  while  over  his  broad  and  ample  chest  there 
fell  the  triangular  shield  of  the  period,  whereon  were 
emblazoned  his  arms — argent,  a  gules  wavy,  on  a  sal- 
tire  reversed  of  the  second  ;  the  latter  device  was 
awarded  for  a  daring  exploit  before  Ascalon,  by  the 
Emperor  Maximilian,  and  a  reference  to  the  German 
Peerage  of  that  day,  or  a  knowledge  of  high  families 
which  every  gentleman  then  possessed,  would  have 
sufficed  to  show  at  once  that  the  rider  we  have  de- 
scribed was  of  the  noble  house  of  Hombourg.     It  was, 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    UIllNE.  97 

in  fact,  the  gallant  knight  Sir  Liidwig  of  Hombonrg 
— his  rank  as  a  count,  and  chamberlain  of  the  Empe- 
ror of  Austria,  was  marked  by  the  cap  of  maintenance 
with  the  peacock's  feather  which  he  wore  (when  not 
armed  for  battle),  and  his  princely  blood  was  denoted 
by  the  oiled  silk  umbrella  which  he  carried  (a  very 
meet  protection  against  the  pitiless  storm),  and  which, 
as  it  is  known,  in  the  middle  ages,  none  but  princes 
were  justified  in  using.  A  bag.  fastened  with  a  bra- 
zen padlock,  and  made  of  the  costly  produce  of  the 
Persian  looms,  (then  extremely  rare  in  Europe,)  told 
that  he  had  travelled  in  Eastern  climes.  This,  too, 
was  evident  from  the  inscription  writ  on  card  or 
parchment  and  sewed  on  the  bag.  It  first  ran 
"Count  Ludwig  de  Hombonrg,  Jerusalem  ;"  but  the 
name  of  the  Holy  City  had  been  dashed  out  with  the 
pen,  and  that  of  "  Godesberg"  substituted — so  far 
indeed  had  the  cavalier  travelled  ! — and  it  is  needless 
to  state  that  the  bag  in  question  contained  such  re- 
maining articles  of  the  toilet,  as  the  high-born  noble 
deemed  unnecessary  to  place  in  his  valise. 

'*  By  Saint  Bugo  of  Katzenellenbogen  !  "  said  the 
good  knight,  shivering,  "  'tis  colder  hece  than  at  Da- 
mascus !  Marry,  I  am  so  hungry  I  could  eat  one  of 
Saladin's  camels.  Shall  I  be  at  Godesberg  in  time 
for  dinner?"  And  taking  out  his  horologe,  (which 
hung  in  a  small  side-pocket  of  his  embroidered  sur- 
coat,)  the  crusader  consoled  himself  by  finding  that  it 
5 


98  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 

was  but  seven  of  the  night,  and  that  he  would  reach 
Godesberg  ere  the  warder  had  sounded  the  second  gong. 
His  opinion  was  borne  out  by  the  result.  His 
good  steed,  which  could  trot  at  a  pinch  fourteen 
leagues  in  the  hour,  brought  him  to  this  famous  castle, 
just  as  the  warder  was  giving  the  first  welcome  signal 
which  told  that  the  princely  family  of  Count  Karl 
Margrave,  of  Godesberg,  were  about  to  prepare  for 
their  usual  repast  at  eight  o'clock.  Crowds  of  pages 
and  horsekeepers  were  in  the  Court,  when  the  port- 
cullis being  raised,  and  amidst  the  respectful  salutes 
of  the  sentinels,  the  most  ancient  friend  of  the  house 
of  Godesberg  entered  into  its  Castle  yard.  The  un- 
der-butler  stepped  forward  to  take  his  bridle-rein. 
"  Welcome,  Sir  Count,  from  the  Holy  Land,"  ex- 
claimed the  faithful  old  man.  "  Welcome,  Sir  Count, 
from  the  Holy  Land,"  cried  the  rest  of  the  servants 
in  the  hall ;  and  a  stable  was  speedily  found  for  the 
Count's  horse,  Streithengst,  and  it  was  not  before 
the  gallant  soldier  had  seen  that  true  animal  well 
cared  for,  that  he  entered  the  castle  itself,  and  was 
conducted  to  his  chamber.  Wax  candles  burning 
bright  on  the  mantel,  flowers  in  china  vases, 
every  variety  of  soap,  and  a  flask  of  the  precious 
essence,  manufactured  at  the  neighbouring  city  of 
Cologne,  were  displayed  on  his  toilet-table  ;  a  cheer- 
ing fire  '•  crackled  in  the  hearth,"  and  showed  that 
the  good  knight's  coming  had  been  looked  and  cared 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  99 

for.  The  serving  maidens,  bringing  him  hot-water 
for  his  ablutions,  smiling  asked,  "  would  he  have  his 
couch  warmed  at  eve  ?  "  One  might  have  been  sure 
from  their  blushes  that  the  tough  old  soldier  made 
an  arch  reply.  The  family  tonsor  came  to  know 
whether  the  noble  Count  had  need  of  his  skill.  "  By 
Saint  Bugo,"  said  the  knight,  as  seated  in  an  easy 
settle  by  the  fire,  the  tonsor  rid  his  chin  of  its  stubby 
growth,  and  lightly  passed  the  tongs  and  pomatum 
through  '  the  sable  silver'  of  his  hair.  "  By  Saint 
Bugo.  this  is  better  than  my  dungeon  at  Qrand  Cairo. 
How  is  my  godson  Otto,  Master  Barber  ;  and  the 
Lady  Countess,  his  mother ;  and  the  noble  Count 
Karl,  my  dear  brother-in-arms  '^  " 

••  They  are  well,"  said  the  tonsor,  with  a  sigh. 

"  By  Saint  Bugo.  I  am  glad  on't ;  but  why  that 
sigh?" 

"  Things  are  not  as  they  have  been  with  my  good 
lord,"  answered  the  hair-dresser,  "  ever  since  Count 
Grottfried's  arrival." 

''  He  here  !  "  roared  Sir  Ludwig.  '•  Good  never 
came  where  Grottfried  was  :"  and  the  while  he  donned 
a  pair  of  silken  hose,  that  showed  admirably  the  pro- 
portions of  his  lower  limbs,  and  exchanged  his  coat 
of  mail  for  the  spotless  vest  and  black  surcoat  collar- 
ed with  velvet  of  Genoa,  which  was  the  fitting  cos- 
tume for  '•  knight  in  ladye's  bower," — the  knight  en- 
tered into  a  conversation  with   the  barber,  who  ex- 


100  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    IIIIINE. 

plained  to  him  with  the  usual  garrulousness  of  his 
tribe,  what  was  the  present  position  of  the  noble 
family  of  Godesberg. 

This  will  be  narrated  in  the  next  chapter. 


CHAPTER  II. 


THE      GODESBERGERS 


'Tis  needless  to  state  that  the  gallant  warrior  Lud- 
wig,  of  Hombourg,  found  in  the  bosom  of  his  friend's 
family  a  cordial  welcome.  The  brother-in-arms  of 
the  Margrave  Karl,  he  was  the  esteemed  friend  of 
the  Margravine,  the  exalted  and  beautiful  Theodora, 
of  Boppum,  and  (albeit  no  theologian,  and  although 
the  first  princes  of  Christendom  coveted  such  an 
honour,)  he  was  selected  to  stand  as  sponsor  for  the 
Margrave's  son  Otto,  the  only  child  of  his  house. 

It  was  now  seventeen  years  since  the  Count  and 
Countess  had  been  united  :  and  although  Heaven  had 
not  blest  their  couch  with  more  than  one  child,  it 
may  be  said  of  that  one,  that  it  was  a  prize,  and  that 
surely  never  lighted  on  the  earth  a  more  delightful 
vision.  When  Count  Ludwig,  hastening  to  the  holy 
wars,  had  quitted  his  beloved  godchild,  he  had  left 
him  a  boy  ;  he  now  found  him,  as  the  latter  rushed 
into  his  arms,  grown  to  be  one  of  the  finest  young 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHIXE.  101 

men  in  Germany :  tall  and  excessively  graceful  in 
proportion,  with  the  blush  of  health  mantling  upon 
his  cheek,  that  was  likewise  adorned  with  the  first 
down  of  manhood,  and  with  magnificent  golden  ring- 
lets, such  as  a  Rowland  might  envy,  curling  over  his 
brow  and  his  shoulders.  His  eyes  alternately  beamed 
with  the  fire  of  daring,  or  melted  with  the  moist 
glance  of  benevolence.  Well  might  a  mother  be  proud 
of  such  a  boy  !  Well  might  the  brave  Ludwig  ex- 
claim, as  he  clasped  the  youth  to  his  breast,  '•  By  St. 
Bugo  of  Katzenellenbogen,  Otto !  thou  art  fit  to  be 
one  of  Coeur  de  Lion's  grenadiers  :" — and  it  was  the 
fact,  the  "  Childe"  of  Godesberg  measured  six  feet 
three. 

He  was  habited  for  the  evening  meal  in  the  costly, 
though  simple  attire  of  the  nobleman  of  the  period — 
and  his  costume  a  good  deal  resembled  that  of  the 
old  knight  whose  toilet  we  have  just  described ;  with 
the  difierence  of  colour  however.  The  pour  point 
worn  by  Young  Otto,  of  Godesberg.  was  of  blue, 
handsomely  decorated  with  buttons  of  carved  and 
embossed  gold  ;  his  haut-de-chausses  or  leggins  were 
of  the  stufi"  of  Nanquin,  then  brought  by  the  Lombard 
iirgosies  at  an  immense  price  from  China.  The 
^Neighbouring  country  of  Holland  had  supplied  his 
wrist  and  bosom  with  the  most  costly  laces  :  and  thus 
attired,  with  an  opera-hat  placed  on  one  side  of  his 
head,  ornamented  with  a  single  flower  (that  brilliant 


102  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 

one  the  tulip),  the  boy  rushed  into  his  godfather's 
dressing-room,  and  warned  him  that  the  banquet  was 
ready. 

It  was  indeed :  a  frown  had  gathered  on  the  dark 
brows  of  the  Lady  Theodora,  and  her  bosom  heaved 
with  an  emotion  akin  to  indignation — for  she  feared 
lest  the  soups  in  the  refectory  and  the  splendid  fish 
now  smoking  there  were  getting  cold — she  feared  not 
for  herself,  but  for  her  lord's  sake.  "  Godesberg," 
whispered  she  to  Count  Ludwig,  as  trembling  on  his 
arm  they  descended  from  the  drawing-room,  "  Godes- 
berg is  sadly  changed  of  late." 

"  By  Saint  Bugo  ! "  said  the  burly  knight,  starting  ; 
"  these  are  the  very  words  the  barber  spake  ! " 

The  lady  heaved  a  sigh,  and  placed  herself  before 
the  soup-tureen.  For  some  time  the  good  knight 
Ludwig  of  Hombourg  was  too  much  occupied  in 
ladling  out  the  forced-meatballs  and  rich  calves'-head 
of  which  the  delicious  pottage  was  formed  (in  ladling 
them  out,  did  we  say  ?  ay,  marry,  and  in  eating  them 
too,)  to  look  at  his  brother-in-arms  at  the  bottom  of 
the  table,  where  he  sat  with  his  son  on  his' left-hand, 
and  the  Baron  Gottfried  on  his  right. 

The  Margrave  was  indeed  changed.  "  By  Saint 
Bugo,"  whispered  Ludwig  to  the  Countess,  '•  your 
husband  is  as  surly  as  a  bear  that  hath  been  wounded 
o'  the  head."  Tears  falling  into  her  soup-plate  were 
her  only  reply.     The  soup,  the  turbot,  the  haunch  of 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  103 

mutton,  Count  Ludwig  remarked  that  the  Margrave 
sent  all  away  untasted. 

"  The  Boteler  will  serve  ye  with  wine,  Hom- 
bourg."  said  the  Margrave  gloomily  from  the  end  of 
the  table  ;  not  even  an  invitation  to  drink  !  how  dif- 
ferent was  this  from  the  old  times  ! 

But  when  in  compliance  with  this  order  the  bot- 
eler proceeded  to  hand  round  the  mantling  vintage 
of  the  Cape  to  the  assembled  party,  and  to  fill 
young  Otto's  goblet  (which  the  latter  held  up  with 
the  eagerness  of  youth),  the  Margrave's  rage  knew 
no  bounds.  He  rushed  at  his  son ;  he  dashed  the 
wine-cup  over  his  spotless  vest ;  and  giving  him  three 
or  four  heavy  blows  which  would  have  knocked  down 
a  bonassus,  but  only  caused  the  young  childe  to 
blush  ;  "  you  take  wine  !"  roared  out  the  Margrave  ; 
'-'■  you  dare  to  help  yourself!  Who  the  d-v-1  gave 
you  leave  to  help  yourself?"  and  the  terrible 
blows  were  reiterated  over  the  delicate  ears  of 
the  boy. 

"  Ludwig  !   Ludwig  !  "  shrieked  the  Margravine. 

"  Hold  your  prate,  Madam,"  roared  the  Prince. 
"  By  Saint  Buffo,  mayn't  a  father  beat  his  own 
child?" 

"  His  own  child  !  "  repeated  the  Margrave,  with 
a  burst,  almost  a  shriek  of  indescribable  angony. 
"Ah,  what  did  I  say?" 

Sir    Ludwig    looked    about    him    in    amaze ;    Sir 


104  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 

Gottfried  (at  the  Margrave's  right-hand)  smiled 
ghastlily ;  the  young  Otto  was  too  much  agitated  by 
the  recent  conflict  to  wear  any  expression  but  that 
of  extreme  discomfiture  ;  but  the  poor  Margravine 
turned  her  head  aside  and  blushed,  red  almost  as 
the  lobster  which  flanked  the  turbot  before  her. 

In  those  rude  old  times,  'tis  known  such  table 
quarrels  were  by  no  means  unusual  amongst  gallant 
knights ;  and  Ludwig,  who  had  oft  seen  the  Mar- 
grave cast  a  leg  of  mutton  at  an  offending  servitor, 
or  empty  a  sauce-boat  in  the  direction  of  the  Mar- 
gravine, thought  this  was  but  one  of  the  usual  out- 
breaks of  his  worthy  though  irascible  friend,  and 
wisely  determined  to  change  the  converse. 

'•  How  is  my  friend,"  said  he,  "  the  good  knight, 
Sir  Hildebrandt?" 

"  By  Saint  Buffo,  this  is  too  much  !  "  SQi-eamed 
the  Margrave,  and  actually  rushed  from  the  room. 

"  By  Saint  Bugo,"  said  his  friend,  "  gallant 
knights,  gentle  sirs,  what  ails  my  good  Lord  Mar- 
grave ? " 

"  Perhaps  his  nose  bleeds,"  said  Gottfried,  with  a 
sneer. 

"  Ah,  my  kind  friend,"  said  the  Margravine,  M'ith 
uncontrollable  emotion,  "I  fear  one  of  you  have 
passed  from  the  frying-pan  into  the  fire ; "  and 
making  the  signal  of  departure  to  the  ladies,  they 
rose  and  retired  to  coffee  in  the  drawing-room. 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  105 


The  Margrave  presently  eame  back  again,  some- 
what more  collected  than  he  had  been.  "  Otto,"  he 
said  sternly,  "go  join  the  ladies:  it  becomes  not  a 
young  boy  to  remain  in  the  company  of  gallant 
knights  after  dinner."  The  noble  childe,  with  mani- 
fest unwillingness,  quitted  the  room,  and  the  Mar- 
grave, taking  his  lady's  place  at  the  head  of  the 
table,  whispered  to  Sir  Ludwig,  '•  Hildebrandt  will 
be  here  to-night  to  an  evening  party,  given  in  honour 
of  your  return  from  Palestine.  My  good  friend — 
my  true  friend — my  old  companion  in  arms.  Sir 
Gottfried  !  you  had  best  see  that  the  fiddlers  be  not 
drunk,  and  that  the  crumpets  be  gotten  ready."  Sir 
Gottfried,  obsequiously  taking  his  patron's  hint, 
bowed  and  left  the  room. 

"  You  shall  know  all  soon,  dear  Ludwig,"  said 
the  Margrave,  with  a  heart-rending  look.  "  You 
marked  Gottfried,  who  left  the  room  anon  1  " 

"I  did." 

"  You  look  incredulous  concerning  his  worth ; 
but  I  tell  thee.  Ludwig,  that  yonder  Gottfried  is  a 
good  fellow,  and  my  fast  friend.  Why  should  he 
not  be  ?  He  is  my  near  relation,  heir  to  my  property  ; 
should  I  (here  the  Margrave's  countenance  assumed 
its  former  expression  of  excruciating  agony),  should 
I  have  no  so??." 

"  But  I  never  saw  the  boy  in  better  health," 
replied  Sir  Ludwig. 

5* 


106  A    LEGEND    OP    THE    RHINE. 

"  Nevertheless,  ha,  ha  !  it  may  chance  that  I  shall 
soon  have  no  son." 

•  The  Margrave  had  crushed  many  a  cup  of  wine 
during  dinner,  and  Sir  Ludwig  thought  naturally 
that  his  gallant  friend  had  drunken  rauher  deeply. 
He  proceeded  in  this  respect  to  imitate  him  :  for  the 
stern  soldier  of  those  days  neither  shrunk  before  the 
Paynim  nor  the  punch-bowl,  and  many  a  rousing 
night  had  our  crusader  enjoyed  in  Syria  with  lion- 
hearted  Richard ;  with  his  coadjutor,  Godfrey  of 
Bouillon  ;  nay,  with  the  dauntless  Saladin  himself. 

"  You  knew  Gottfried  in  Palestine  ? "  asked  the 
Margrave. 

"  I  did." 

"  Why  did  ye  not  greet  him,  then,  as  ancient 
comrades  should,  with  the  warm  grasp  of  friendship  ? 
It  is  not  because  Sir  Gottfried  is  poor  ?  You  know 
well  that  he  is  of  race  as  noble  as  thine  own,  my 
early  friend ! " 

"  I  care  not  for  his  race  nor  for  his  poverty,"  re- 
plied the  blunt  crusader.  "  What  says  the  Minne- 
singer ?  '  Marry,  that  the  rank  is  but  the  stamp  of 
the  guinea  ;  the  man  is  the  gold.'  And  I  tell  thee, 
Karl  of  Godesberg,  that  yonder  Gottfried  is  base 
metal." 

"  By  Saint  Buffo,  thou  beliest  him,  dear  Lud- 
wig." 

"  By  Saint  Bugo,  dear  Karl,  I  say  sooth.     The 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  107 

fellow  was  known  i"  the  camp  of  the  crusaders — dis- 
reputably known.  Ere  he  joined  us  in  Palestine,  he 
had  sojourned  in  Constantinople,  and  learned  the 
arts  of  the  Greek.  He  is  a  cogger  of  dice,  I  tell 
thee — a  chanter  of  horse-flesh.  He  won  five  thou- 
sand marks  from  blufi"  Richard  of  England,  the  night 
before  the  storming  of  Ascalon,  and  I  caught  him 
with  false  trumps  in  his  pocket.  He  warranted  a 
bay  mare  to  Conrad  of  Mont  Serrat.  and  the  rogue 
had  fired  her." 

"  Ha,  mean  ye  that  Sir  Gottfried  is  a  leg  ?  "'  cried 
Sir  Karl,  knitting  his  brows.  "  Now.  by  my  blessed 
patron,  Saint  Bufi"©  of  Bonn,  had  any  other  but  Lud- 
wig  of  Hombourg,  so  said.  I  would  have  cloven  him 
from  skull  to  chine."' 

''  By  Saint  Bugo  of  Katzenellenbogen,  I  will 
prove  my  words  on  Sir  Gottfried's  body — not  on 
thine,  old  brother  in  arms.  And  to  do  the  knave 
justice,  he  is  a  good  lance.  Holy  Bugo  !  but  he  did 
good  service  at  Acre  !  But  his  character  was  such 
that,  spite  of  his  bravery,  he  was  dismissed  the  army, 
nor  ever  allowed  to  sell  his  captain's  commission." 

"'  I  have  heard  of  it,"  said  the  Margrave  :  ■'  Gott- 
fried hath  told  me  of  it.  'Twas  about  some  silly 
quarrel  over  the  wine-cup — a  mere  silly  jape,  believe 
me.  Hugo  de  Brodenel  would  have  no  black  bottle 
on  the  board.  Gottfried  was  wroth,  and  to  say  sooth, 
flung  the  black  bottle  at  the  County's  head.      Hence 


108  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 

his  dismission  and  abrupt  return.  But  you  know 
not,"  continued  the  Margrave  with  a  heavy  sigh,  "  of 
what  use  that  worthy  Gottfried  has  been  to  me.  He 
has  uncloaked  a  traitor  to  me." 

"  Not  ?/e^,"  answered  Hombourg,  satirically. 

"  By  Saint  Buffo  !  a  deep-dyed  dastard ;  a  dan- 
gerous, damnable  traitor  ! — a  nest  of  traitors.  Hil- 
debrandt  is  a  traitor — Otto  is  a  traitor — and  Theo- 
dora (oh,  Heaven  !)  she — she  is  another,^''  The  old 
Prince  burst  into  tears  at  the  word,  and  was  almost 
choked  with  emotion. 

"  What  means  this  passion,  dear  friend  %  "  cried 
Sir  Ludwig,  seriously  alarmed. 

"  Mark,  Ludwig ;  mark  Hildebrandt  and  Theo- 
dora together ;  mark  Hildebrandt  and  Otto  together. 
Like,  like  I  tell  thee  as  two  peas.  0  holy  saints, 
that  I  should  be  born  to  suffer  this  ! — to  have  all  my 
affections  wrenched  out  of  my  bosom,  and  to  be  left 
alone  in  my  old  age  !  But,  hark  !  the  guests  are 
arriving.  An  ye  will  not  empty  another  flask  of 
claret,  let  us  join  the  ladyes  i'  the  withdrawing 
chamber.  When  there,  mark  Hildebrandt  and 
Otto?' 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  109 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE    FESTIVAL. 

The  festival  was  indeed  begun.  Coming  on 
horseback,  or  in  their  caroches,  knights  and  ladies 
of  the  highest  rank  were  assembled  in  the  grand 
saloon  of  Grodesberg,  which  was  splendidly  illumina- 
ted to  receive  them.  Servitors,  in  rich  liveries,  (they 
were  attired  in  doublets  of  the  sky-blue  broad-cloth 
of  Ypres,  and  hose  of  the  richest  yellow  sammit — 
the  colours  of  the  house  of  Godesberg.)  bore  about 
various  refreshments  on  trays  of  silver — cakes,  baked 
in  the  oven,  and  swimming  in  melted  butter  ;  mauch- 
ets  of  bread,  smeared  with  the  same  delicious  condi- 
ment, and  carved  so  thin  that  you  might  have 
expected  them  to  take  wing,  and  fly  to  the  ceiling ; 
coffee,  introduced  by  Peter  the  hermit,  after  his 
excursion  into  Arabia,  and  tea  such  as  only  Bohea- 
mia  could  produce,  circulated  amidst  the  festive 
throng,  and  were  eagerly  devoured  by  the  guests. 
The  Margrave's  gloom  was  unheeded  by  them — how 
little  indeed  is  the  smiling  crowd  aware  of  the  pangs 
that  are  lurking  in  the  breasts  of  those  who  bid  them 
to  the  feast !  The  Margravine  was  pale  ;  but  woman 
knows  how  to  deceive  ;  she  was  more  than  ordinarily 
courteous   to  her  friends,  and  laughed,  though  the 


110  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 

laugh  was  hollow,  and  talked,  though  the  talk  was 
loathsome  to  her. 

"  The  two  are  together,"  said  the  Margrave, 
clutching  his  friend's  shoulder.     "  Now  lookP 

Sir  Ludwig  turned  towards  a  quadrille,  and  there, 
sure  enough,  were  Sir  Hildebrandt  and  young  Otto 
stand.ing  side  by  side  in  the  dance.  Two  eggs  were 
not  more  like  !  The  reason  of  the  Margrave's  horrid 
suspicion  at  once  flashed  across  his  friend's  mind. 

"  'Tis  clear  as  the  staff  of  a  pike,"  said  the  poor 
Margrave,  mournfully.  '"  Come,  brother,  away  from 
the  scene  ;  let  us  go  play  a  game  at  cribbage  !  "  and 
retiring  to  the  Margravine's  boudoir^  the  two  warriors 
sat  down  to  the  game. 

But  though  'tis  an  interesting  one,  and  though 
the  Margrave  won,  yet  he  could  not  keep  his  atten- 
tion on  the  cards ;  so  agitated  was  his  mind  by  the 
dreadful  secret  which  weighed  upon  it.  In  the  midst 
of  their  play,  the  obsequious  Gottfried  came  to 
whisper  a  word  in  his  patron's  ear,  which  threw 
the  latter  into  such  a  fury,  that  apoplexy  was  appre- 
hended by  the  two  lookers  on.  But  the  Margrave 
mastered  his  emotion.  "  At  what  time^  did  you 
say  ?  "  said  he,  to  Gottfried. 

"  At  day-break,  at  the  outer  gate." 

"I  will  be  there." 

^^  And  so  ivill  Itoo^''  thought  Count  Ludwig,  the 
good  knight  of  Hombourg. 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  Ill 


CHAPTER  IV. 

How  often  does  man.  proud  man,  make  calcula- 
tions for  the  future,  and  think  he  can  bend  stern  fate 
to  his  will !  Alas,  we  are  but  creatures  in  its  hands  ! 
How  many  a  slip  between  the  lip  and  the  lifted  wine- 
cup  !  How  often,  though  seemingly  with  a  choice  of 
couches  to  repose  upon,  do  we  find  ourselves  dashed 
to  earth :  and  then  we  are  fain  to  say  the  grapes  are 
sour,  because  we  cannot  attain  them  ;  or  worse,  to 
yield  to  anger  in  consequence  of  our  own  fault.  Sir 
Ludwig,  the  Hombourger,  was  not  at  the  outer  gate 
at  day-break. 

He  slept  until  ten  of  the  clock.  The  previous 
night's  potations  had  been  heavy,  the  day's  journey 
had  been  long  and  rough.  The  knight  slept  as  a 
soldier  would,  to  whom  a  feather  bed  is  a  rarity,  and 
who  wakes  not  till  he  hears  the  blast  of  the  reveille. 

He  looked  up  as  he  woke.  At  his  bed-side  sat 
the  Margrave.  He  had  been  there  for  hours  watch- 
ing his  slumbering  comrade.  Watching? — no,  not 
watching;  but  awake  by  his  side,  brooding  over 
thoughts  unutterably  bitter — over  feelings  inexpress- 
ibly wretched. 

"  What's  o'clock  ?  "  was  the  first  natural  exclama- 
tion of  the  Hombourger. 


112  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 


"  I  believe  it  is  five  o'clock,"  said  his  friend.  It 
was  ten.  It  might  have  been  twelve,  two,  half-past 
fonr,  twenty  minutes  to  six,  the  Margrave  would  still 
have  said,  ''/  believe  it  is  jive  o'clock?^  The  wretched 
take  no  count  of  time,  it  flies  with  unequal  pinions, 
indeed;  for  themy 

'•  Is  breakfast  over  ?  "  inquired  the  crusader. 

"  Ask  the  butler,"  said  the  Margrave,  nodding 
his  head  wildly,  rolling  his  eyes  wildly,  smiling  wildly. 

"  G-racious  Buffo  !  "  said  the  knight  of  Hombourg, 
"  what  has  ailed  thee,  my  friend  %  It  is  ten  o'clock 
by  my  horologe.  Your  regular  hour  is  nine.  You 
are  not — no,  by  Heavens  !  you  are  not  sha,ved  !  You 
wear  the  tights  and  silj^en  hose  of  last  evening's 
banquet.  Your  collar  is  all  rumpled — 'tis  that  of 
yesterday.  You  have  not  been  to  bed  ?  What  has 
chanced,  brother  of  mine,  what  has  chanced  1  " 

"  A  common  chance,  Louis  of  Hombourg,"  said 
the  Margrave,  "  on'e  that  chances  every  day.  A  false 
woman,  a  false  friend,  a  broken  heart.  This  has 
chanced.     I  have  not  been  to  bed." 

"  What  mean  ye  ?  "  cried  Count  Ludwig,  deeply 
affected.  "A  false  friend?  /am  not  a  false  friend 
— a  false  woman.  Surely  the  lovely  Theodora  your 
wife"— 

"  I  have  no  wife,  Louis,  now ;  I  have  no  wife  and 
no  son." 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  113 

In  accents  broken  by  gi'ief,  the  Margrave  explain- 
ed what  had  occurred.  Gottfried's  information  was 
but  too  correct.  There  was  a  cause  for  the  likeness 
between  Otto  and  Sir  Hildebrandt;  a  fatal  cause! 
Hildebrandt  and  Theodora  had  met  at  dawn  at  the 
outer  gate.  The  Margrave  had  seen  them.  They 
walked  long  together  ;  they  embraced.  Ah  !  how 
the  husband's,  the  father's,  feelings  were  harrowed  at 
that  embrace  !  They  parted ;  and  then  the  Mar- 
grave coming  forward,  coldly  signified  to  his  lady 
that  she  was  to  retire  to  a  convent  for  life,  and  gave 
orders  that  the  boy  should  be  sent  too,  to  take  the 
vows  at  a  monastery. 

Both  sentences  had  been  executed.  Otto,  in  a 
boat,  and  guarded  by  a  company  of  his  father's  men- 
at-arms,  was  on  the  river  going  towards  Cologne  to 
the  monastery  of  Saint  Buffo  there.  The  lady  Theo- 
dora, under  the  guard  of  Sir  Gottfried  and  an  attend- 
ant, were  on  their  way  to  the  convent  of  Nonnen- 
werth,  which  many  of  our  readers  have  seen — the 
beautiful  Green  Island  Convent,  laved  by  the  bright 
waters  of  the  Rhine ! 

"What  road  did  Gottfried  take?"  asked  the 
knight  of  Hombourg,  grinding  his  teeth. 

''  You  cannot  overtake  him,"  said  the  Margrave. 
"  My  good  Gottfried,  he  is  my  only  comfort,  now ; 
he  is  my  kinsman,  and  shall  be  my  heir.  He  will  be 
back  anon." 


114  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 

'''  Will  he  so  ?  "  thought  Sir  Ludwig.  "  1  will  ask 
him  a  few  questions  ere  he  return.''  And  springing 
from  his  couch,  he  began  forthwith  to  put  on  his  usual 
morning  dress  of  complete  armour  ;  and,  after  a  hasty 
ablution,  donned  not  his  cap  of  maintenance,  but  his 
helmet  of  battle.     He  rang  the  bell  violently. 

''  A  cup  of  coffee,  straight,"  said  he,  to  the  servi- 
tor, who  answered  the  summons  ;  "  bid  the  cook  pack 
me  a  sausage  and  bread  in  paper,  and  the  groom 
saddle  Streithengst ;  we  have  far  to  ride." 

The  various  orders  were  obeyed.  The  horse  was 
brought ;  the  refreshments  disposed  of ;  the  clatter- 
ing steps  of  the  departing  steed  were  heard  in  the 
court-yard  ;  but  the  Margrave  took  no  notice  of  his 
friend,  and  sat,  plunged  in  silent  grief,  quite  motion- 
less by  the  empty  bed-side. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE     traitor's     DOOM. 

The  Hombourger  led  his  horse  down  the  winding 
path  which  conducts  from  the  hill  and  castle  of  Goden- 
berg  into  the  beautiful  green  plain  below.  Who  has  not 
seen  that  lovely  plain,  and  who  that  has  seen  it  has 
not  loved    it  ?     A    thousand   sunny    vineyards   and 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  115 


cornfields  stretch  around  in  peaceful  luxuriance  :  the 
miofhty  Rhine  floats  by  it  in  silver  magnificence,  and 
on  the  opposite  bank  rise  the  seven  mountains  robed 
in  majestic  purple,  the  monarchs  of  the  royal  scene. 

A  pleasing  poet,  Lord  Byron,  in  describing  this 
very  scene,  has  mentioned  that  '•'  peasant  girls,  vrith 
dark  blue  eyes,  and  hands  that  offer  cake  and  wine"' 
are  perpetually  crowding  round  the  traveller  in  this 
delicious  district,  and  proffering  to  him  their  rustic 
presents.  This  was  Wo  doubt  the  case  in  former  days, 
when  the  noble  bard  wrote  his  elegant  poems — in 
the  happy  ancient  days  !  when  maidens  were  as  yet 
generous,  and  men  kindly !  Now  the  degenerate 
peasantry  of  the  district  are  much  more  inclined  to 
ask  than  to  give,  and  their  blue  eyes  to  have  disap- 
peared with  their  generosity. 

But  as  it  was  a  long  time  ago  that  the  events  of 
our  story  occurred,  'tis  probable  that  the  good  knight 
Ludwig  of  Hombourg  was  greeted  upon  his  path  by 
this  fascinating  peasantry,  though  we  know  not  how 
he  accepted  their  welcome.  He  continued  his  ride 
across  the  flat  green  country,  until  he  came  to  Bo- 
landseck,  whence  he  could  command  the  Island  of 
Nonnenwerth  (that  lies  in  the  Bhine  opposite  that 
place),  and  all  who  went  to  it  or  passed  from  it. 

Over  the  entrance  of  a  little  cavern  in  one  of  the 
rocks  hanging  obove  the  Bhine-stream  at  Bolandseck. 
and  covered  with    odoriferous    cactuses   and    silvery 


„16  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 

magnolia,  the  traveller  of  the  present  day  may  per- 
ceive a  rude  broken  image  of  a  saint ;  that  image  re- 
presented the  venerable  Saint  Buffo  of  Bonn,  the  pat- 
ron of  the  Margrave,  and  Sir  Ludwig  kneeling  on  the 
greensward,  and  reciting  a  censer,  an  ave,  and  a 
couple  of  acolytes  before  it,  felt  encouraged  to  think 
that  the  deed  he  meditated  was  about  to  be  performed 
under  the  very  eyes  of  his  friend's  sanctified  patron. 
His  devotion  done  (and  the  knight  of  those  days  was 
as  pious  as  he  was  brave),  Sir  Louis,  the  gallant 
Hombourger,  exclaimed  with  a  loud  voice  : 

"Ho  !  hermit  !  holy  hermit,  art  thou  in  thy  cell?  " 

"  Who  calls  the  poor  servant  of  Heaven  and  Saint 
Buffo  ? "  exclaimed  a  voice  from  the  cavern ;  and 
presently,  from  beneath  the  wreaths  of  geranium  and 
magnolia,  appeared  an  intensely  venerable,  ancient, 
and  majestic  head — 'twas  that,  we  need  not  say,  of 
Saint  Buffo's  solitary.  A  silver  beard  hanging  to  his 
knees  gave  his  person  an  appearance  of  great  respec- 
tability ;  his  body  was  robed  in  simple  brown  serge, 
and  girt  with  a  knotted  cord ;  his  ancient  feet  were 
only  defended  from  the  prickles  and  stones  by  the 
rudest  sandals,  and  his  bald  and  polished  head  was 
bare. 

"  Holy  hermit,"  said  the  knight,  in  a  grave  voice, 
"  make  ready  thy  ministry,  for  there  is  some  one 
about  to  die." 

"Where,  son?" 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    R.HIXE.  1  1 7 

''  Here,  father." 

"  Is  lie  here,  now  ?  " 

"  Perhaps,"  said  the  stout  warrior,  crossing  him- 
self, ••  but  not  so  if  right  prevail."  At  this  moment, 
he  caught  sight  of  a  ferry-boat  putting  off  from  Non- 
nenwerth,  with  a  knight  on  board.  Ludwig  knew  at 
once  by  the  sinople  reversed,  and  the  truncated  gules 
on  his  surcoat.  that  it  was  Sir  Gottfried  of  Godes- 
berg. 

"  Be  ready,  father,"  said  the  good  knight,  point- 
incr  towards  the  advancins;  boat :  and,  waving  his 
hand,  by  way  of  respect,  to  the  reverend  hermit,  and 
without  a  further  word,  he  vaulted  into  his  saddle, 
and  rode  back  for  a  few  score  of  paces,  where  he 
wheeled  round,  and  remained  stead}-.  His  great  lance 
and  pennon  rose  in  the  air.  His  armour  glistened  in 
the  sun  ;  the  chest  and  head  of  his  battle-horse  were 
similarly  covered  with  steel.  As  Sir  Gottfried,  like- 
wise armed  and  mounted  (for  his  horse  had  been  left 
at  the  ferry  hard  by),  advanced  up  the  road,  he  al- 
most started  at  the  figure  before  him — a  glistening 
tower  of  steeL 

"  Are  you  the  lord  of  this  pass.  Sir  Knight  ?  "  said 
Sir  Gottfried,  haughtily,  "  or  do  you  hold  it  against 
all  comers,  in  honour  of  your  lady-love  ?  " 

'•  I  am  not  the  lord  of  this  pass.  I  do  not  hold  it 
against  all  comers.  I  hold  it  but  against  one,  and  he 
is  a  liar  and  a  traitor." 


118  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 

"  As  the  matter  concerns  me  not.  I  pray  you  let 
me  pass,"  said  Gottfried.  v 

■ '"  The  matter  does  concern  thee,  Gottfried  of  God- 
esberg.     Liar,  and  traitor  !  art  thou  coward,  too  'I  " 

"  Holy  Saint  Buffo  !  'tis  a  fight !  "  exclaimed  the 
old  hermit  (who,  too,  had  been  a  gallant  warrior  in 
his  day) ;  and  like  the  old  war-horse  that  hears  the 
trumpet's  sound,  and  spite  of  his  clerical  profession, 
he  prepared  to  look  on  at  the  combat  with  no 
ordinary  eagerness,  and  sat  down  on  the  overhanging 
ledge  of  the  rock,  lighting  his  pipe,  and  affecting  un- 
concern, but  in  reality  most  deeply  interested  in  the 
event  which  was  about  to  ensue. 

As  soon  as  the  word  '•  cow^ard"  had  been  pro- 
nounced by  Sir  Ludwig.  his  opponent,  uttering  a  curse 
far  too  horrible  to  be  inscribed  here,  had  wheeled 
back  his  powerful  piebald,  and  brought  his  lance  to 
the  rest. 

"  Ha  !  Beauseant  !"  cried  he.  "  Allah  humdil- 
lah  !"  'Twas  the  battle-cry  in  Palestine  of  the  irre- 
sistible knights-hospitallers.  "  Look  to  thyself,  Sir 
Knight,  and  for  mercy  from  Heaven  !  /will  give 
thee  none." 

"  A  Bugo  for  Katzenellenbogen  !  "  exclaimed  Sir 
Ludwig,  piously  ;  that,  too,  was  the  well-known  war- 
cry  of  his  princely  race. 

"  I  will  give  the  signal."  said  the  old  hermit,  waving 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  119 

his  pipe.  "Knights,  are  you  ready?  One,  two. 
three.     Los  I  "  (let  go.) 

At  the  signal,  the  two  steeds  tore  up  the  ground 
like  whirlwinds  :  the  two  knights,  two  flashing  per- 
pendicular masses  of  steel,  rapidly  converged  ;  the 
two  lances  met  upon  the  two  shields  of  either,  and 
shivered,  splintered,  shattered  into  ten  hundred  thou- 
sand pieces,  which  whirled  through  the  air  here  and 
there,  among  the  rocks,  or  in  the  trees,  or  in  the  river. 
The  two  horses  fell  back  trembling  on  their  haunches, 
where  they  remained  for  half  a  minute  or  so. 

'•  Holy  Buffo  !  a  brave  stroke  !  "  said  the  old  her- 
mit. '•  Marry,  but  a  splinter  well  nigh  took  off  my 
nose  !  "  The  honest  hermit  waved  his  pipe  in  delight, 
not  perceiving  that  one  of  the  splinters  had  carried  off 
the  head  of  it,  and  rendered  his  favourite  amusement 
impossible.  '•  Ha  !  they  are  to  it  again  !  Oh,  my  ! 
how  they  go  to  with  their  great  swords  !  Well  strick- 
en, grey  !  Well  parried,  piebald  !  Ha,  that  was  a 
slicer  !  Go  it,  piebald  !  go  it,  grey  ! — go  it,  grey  ! 
go  it,  pie  *  *  *.  Peccavi !  peccavi  !  "  said  the 
old  man,  here  suddenly  closing  his  eyes,  and  falling 
down  on  his  knees.  '•  I  forgot  I  was  a  man  of  peace  ;  " 
and  the  next  moment,  muttering  a  hasty  matin,  he 
sprung  down  the  ledge  of  rock,  and  was  by  the  side 
of  the  combatants. 

The  battle  was  over.  Good  knight  as  Sir  Gottfried 
was,  his  strength  and  skill  had  not  been  able  to  over- 


I'iO  A    LEGEND    OF    'JIIE    RHINE. 

come  Sir  Ludwig  the  Hombourger,  with  right  on  his 
side.  He  was  bleeding  at  every  point  of  his  armour: 
he  had  been  run  through  the  body  several  times,  and  a 
cut  in  tierce,  delivered  with  tremendous  dexterity. 
had  cloven  the  crown  of  his  helmet  cf  Damascu.'^- 
steel,  and  passing  through  the  cerebellum  and  senso- 
rium,  had  split  his  nose  almost  in  twain. 

His  mouth  foaming — his  face  almost  green — his 
eyes  full  of  blood — his  brains  spattered  over  his  fore- 
head, and  several  of  his  teeth  knocked  out, — the  dis- 
comfited warrior  presented  a  ghastly  spectacle ;  as 
reeling  under  the  effect  of  the  last  blow  which  the 
knight  of  Hombourg  dealt,  Sir  Gottfried  fell  heavily 
from  the  saddle  of  his  piebald  charger ;  the  fright- 
ened animal  whisked  his  tail  wikllv  with  a  shriek 
and  a  snort,  plunged  out  his  hind  legs,  trampling  for 
one  moment  upon  the  feet  of  the  prostrate  Gott- 
fried, thereby  causing  him  to  shriek  with  agony,  and 
then  galloped  away  riderless. 

Away  !  aye,  away  ! — away  amid  the  green  vine- 
yards and  golden  cornfields  ;  away  up  the  steep  moun- 
tains, where  he  frightened  the  eagles  in  their  eyries  ; 
away  down  the  clattering  ravines,  where  the  flashing 
cataracts  tumble  ;  away  through  the  dark  pine  forests 
where  the  hungry  wolves  are  howling ;  away  over  the 
dreary  wolds,  where  the  wild  wind  walks  alone  ;  away 
through  the  plashing  quagmires,  where  the  will-o'- 
the  wisps  slunk  frightened  among  the  reeds ;   away 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  121 

through  light  and  darkness,  storm  and  sunshine  ;  away 
by  tower  and  town,  highroad  and  hamlet.  Once  a 
turnpike-man  would  have  detained  him  ;  but,  ha,  ha  ! 
he  charged  the  'pike,  and  cleared  it  at  a  bound. 
Once  the  Cologne  Diligence  stopped  the  way ;  he 
charged  the  Diligence,  he  knocked  off  the  cap  of  the 
conductor  on  the  roof,  and  yet  galloped  wildly,  mad- 
ly, furiously,  irresistibly  on !  Brave  horse  !  gallant 
steed  !  snorting  child  of  Araby  !  On  went  the  horse, 
over  mountains,  rivers,  turnpikes,  applewomen ;  and 
never  stopped  until  he  reached  a  livery-stable  in  Co- 
logne, where  his  master  was  accustomed  to  put  him  up. 


*    CHAPTER  VI. 

THE       CONFESSION. 

But  we  have  forgotten,  meanwhile,  that  prostrate 
individual.  Having  examined  the  wounds  in  his  side, 
legs,  head,  and  throat,  the  old  hermit  (a  skilful  leech) 
knelt  down  by  the  side  of  the  vanquished  one,  and 
said,  "  Sir  Knight,  it  is  my  painful  duty  to  state  to 
you  that  you  are  in  an  exceedingly  dangerous  condi- 
tion, and  will  not  probably  survive." 

'  Say  you  so,  Sir  Priest  ?  then  'tis  time  I  make 
6 


122  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 

my  confession — hearken  you,  priest,  and  you,  Sir 
Knight,  whoever  you  be." 

Sir  Ludwig  (who,  much  affected  by  the  scene,  had 
been  tying  his  horse  up  to  a  tree)  lifted  his  visor 
and  said,  "  Gottfried  of  Godesberg !  I  am  the  friend 
of  thy  kinsman,  Margrave  Karl,  whose  happiness  thou 
hast  ruined ;  I  am  the  friend  of  his  chaste  and 
virtuous  lady,  whose  fair  fame  thou  hast  belied;  I 
am  the  godfather  of  young  Count  Otto,  whose  heri- 
tage thou  wouldst  basely  have  appropriated — there- 
fore I  met  thee  in  deadly  fight,  and  overcame  thee, 
and  have  well  nigh  finished  thee.     Speak  on." 

"  I  have  done  all  this,"  said  the  dying  man,  "  and 
here,  in  my  last  hour,  repent  me.  The  Lady  Theo- 
dora is  a  spotless  lady  ;  the  youthful  Otto  the  true 
son  of  his  father — Sir  Hildebrandt  is  not  his  father, 
but  his  laicle.'''' 

"  Gracious  Buffo  !  Celestial  Bugo  !  "  here  said 
the  hermit  and  the  knight  of  Hombourg  simultane- 
ously, clasping  their  hands. 

"  Yes,  his  uncle,  but  with  the  bar -sinister'  in  his 
'scutcheon.  Hence  he  could  never  be  acknowledged 
by  the  family ;  hence,  too,  the  Lady  Theodora's  spot- 
less purity  (though  the  young  people  had  been  brought 
up  together)  could  never  be  brought  to  own  the  rela- 
tionship." 

"  May  I  repeat  your  confession  ? "  asked  the 
hermit. 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  123 

"  With  the  greatest  pleasure  in  life — carry  my 
confession  to  the  Margrave,  and  pray  him  give  me 
pardon.  "Were  there — a  notary-public  present,"  slow- 
ly gasped  the  knight,  the  film  of  dissolution  glazing 
over  his  eyes,  "  I  would  ask — you — two — gentlemen 
to  witness  it.  I  would  gladly — .sign  the  deposition, 
that  is  if  I  could  wr-wr-wr-wr-ite  ! "'  A  faint  shud- 
dering smile — a  quiver,  a  gasp,  a  gurgle — the  blood 
gushed  from  his  mouth  in  black  volumes     *     * 

"  He  will  never  sin  more,"  said  the  Hermit, 
solemnly. 

"  May  Heaven  assoilzie  him  !  "  said  Sir  Ludwig. 
"  Hermit,  he  was  a   gallant  knight.      He  died  with 
harness  '•on   his   back,   and    with   truth   on   his   lips ; 
Ludwig  of  Hombourg  would  ask  no  other  death." 
#  *  *  .  #  * 

An  hour  afterwards  the  principal  servants  at  the 
Castle  of  Godesberg  were  rather  surprised  to  see  the 
noble  Lord  Louis  trot  into  the  court-yard  of  the 
castle,  with  a  companion  on  the  crupper  of  his  saddle. 
'Twas  the  venerable  hermit  of  Rolandseck.  who,  for 
the  sake  of  greater  celerity,  had  adopted  this  undig- 
nified conveyance,  and  whose  appearance  and  little 
dumpy  legs  might  well  create  hilarity  among  the 
"  pampered  menials"  who  are  always  found  lounging 
about  the  houses  of  the  great.  He  skipped  off  the 
saddle  with  considerable  lightness  however ;  and  Sir 
Ludwig,  taking  the  reverend  man  by  the  arm,  and 


124  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 

frowning  the  jeering  servitors  into  awe,  bade  them 
lead  him  to  the  presence  of  his  Highness  the  Mar- 
grave. 

"  What  has  chanced  ?  "  said  the  inquisitive  servi- 
tor ;  "  the  riderless  horse  of  Sir  Gottfried  was  seen 
to  gallop  by  the  outer  wall  anon.  The  Margrave's 
Grace  has  never  quitted  your  Lordship's  chamber, 
and  sits  as  one  distraught." 

"  Hold  thy  prate,  knave,  and  lead  us  on."  And 
so  saying,  the  knight  and  his  Reverence  moved  into 
the  well-known  apartment,  where,  according  to  the 
servitor's  description,  the  wretched  Margrave  sat 
like  a  stone. 

Ludwig  took  one  of  the  kind  broken-hearted 
man's  hands,  the  hermit  seized  the  other,  and  began 
(but  on  account  of  his  great  age,  with  a  prolixity 
which  we  shall  not  endeavour  to  imitate)  to  narrate 
the  events  which  we  have  already  described.  Let 
the  dear  reader  fancy,  the  while  his  Reverence  speaks, 
the  glazed  eyes  of  the  Margrave  gradually  lighting 
up  with  attention ;  the  flush  of  joy  which  mantles  in 
his  countenance — the  start — the  throb — the  almost 
delirious  outburst  of  hysteric  exultation  with  which, 
when  the  whole  truth  was  made  known,  he  clasped 
the  two  messengers  of  glad  tidings  to  his  breast,  with 
an  energy  that  almost  choked  the  aged  recluse ! 
'^  Ride,  ride  this  instant  to  the  Margravine — say  I 
have  wronged  her,  that  it  is  all  right,  that  she  may 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  125 

come  back — that  I  forgive  her — that  I  apologise  if 
you  will  "  — and  a  secretary  forthwith  despatched  a 
note  to  that  effect,  which  was  carried  off  by  a  fleet 
messenger. 

"  Now  write  to  the  Superior  of  the  monastery  at 
Cologne,  and  bid  him  send  me  back  my  boy.  my 
darling,  my  Otto — my  Otto  of  roses  !  "  said  the  fond 
father,  making  the  first  play  upon  words  he  had  ever 
attempted  in  his  life.  But  what  will  not  paternal 
love  effect?  The  secretary  (smiling  at  the  joke) 
wrote  another  letter,  and  another  fleet  messenger 
was  despatched  on  another  horse, 

"  And  now."  said  Sir  Ludwig.  playfully,  "  let  us 
to  lunch.     Holy  Hermit,  are  you  for  a  snack?  " 

The  Hermit  could  not  say  nay  on  an  occasion  so 
festive,  and  the  three  gentles  seated  themselves  to  a 
plenteous  repast,  for  which  the  remains  of  the  feast 
of  yesterday  offered,  it  need  not  be  said,  ample 
means. 

"  They  will  be  home  by  dinner-time,"  said  the 
exulting  father,  "  Ludwig  !  reverend  hermit  !  We 
will  carry  on  till  then  ;  "  and  the  cup  passed  gaily 
round,  and  the  laugh  and  jest  circulated,  while  the 
three  happy  friends  sat  confidentially  awaiting  the 
return  of  the  Margravine  and  her  son. 

But  alas  !  said  we  not  rightly  at  the  commence- 
ment of  a  former  chapter,  that  betwixt  the  lip  and 
the  raised  wine-cup  there  is  often  many  a  spill  ?  that 


126  A    LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 

our  hopes  are  high,  and  often,  too  often  vain  ?  About 
three  hours  after  the  departure  of  the  first  messenger, 
he  returned,  and  with  an  exceedingly  long  face  knelt 
down  and  presented  to  the  Margrave  a  billet  to  the 
following  effect : 

"CoxvENT  OF  NoxNENWERTPi,  Friday  Afternoon. 
"  Sir  :  I  have  submitted  too  long  to  your  ill- 
usnge,  and  am  disposed  to  bear  it  no  more.  I  will 
no  longer  be  made  the  butt  of  your  ribald  satire,  and 
the  object  of  your  coarse  abuse.  Last  week  you 
threatened  me  with  your  cane  !  On  Tuesday  last 
you  threw  a  wine-decanter  at  me.  which  hit  the 
butler  it  is  true,  but  the  intention  was  evident. 
This  morning,  in  the  presence  of  all  the  servants, 
you  called  me  by  the  most  vile,  abominable  name, 
which,  Heaven  forbid  I  should  repeat  !  You  dis- 
missed me  from  your  house  under  a  false  accusation. 
You  sent  me  to  this  odious  convent  to  be  immured 
for  life.  Be  it  so,  I  will  not  come  back,  because 
forsooth,  you  relent.  Anything  is  better  than  a  resi- 
dence with  a  wicked,  coarse,  violent,  intoxicated, 
brutal  monster  like  yourself  I  remain  here  for 
ever,  and  blush  to  be  obliged  to  sign  myself 

"  Theodora  Yon  Godesberg." 

"  P.S.  I  hope  you  do  not  intend  to  keep  all  my 
best  gowns,  jewels,  and  wearing  apparel :  and  make 
no  doubt  you  dismissed  me  from  your  house  in  order 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  127 

to   make   way  for   some   vile    hussj,  whose   eyes    I 
would  like  to  tear  out. 

"  T.  V.  a." 


CHAPTER  VII. 

The  singular  document,  illustrative  of  the  pas- 
sions of  women  at  all  times,  and  particularly  of  the 
manners  of  the  early  ages,  struck  dismay  into  the 
heart  of  the  Margrave. 

"  Are  her  ladyship's  insinuations  correct?  "  asked 
the  Hermit  in  a  severe  tone.  "To  correct  a  wife 
with  a  cane  is  a  venial.  I  may  say  a  justifiable  prac- 
tice :  but  to  fling  a  bottle  at  her,  is  a  ruin  both  to 
the  liquor  and  to  her." 

'•  But  she  sent  a  carving-knife  at  me  first,"  said 
the  heart-broken  husband.  '•  Oh,  jealousy,  cursed 
jealousy,  why,  why  did  I  ever  listen  to  thy  green 
and  yellow  tongue  ?  " 

"  They  quarrelled,  but  they  loved  each  other  sin- 
cerely," whispered  Sir  Ludwig  to  the  Hermit,  who 
began  to  deliver  forthwith  a  lecture  upon  family  dis- 
cord and  marital  authority,  which  would  have  sent 
his  two  hearers  to  sleep,  but  for  the  arrival  of  the 
second  messenger,  whom  the  Margrave  had  despatch- 
ed to  Cologne  for  his  son.     This  herald  wore  a  still 


128  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 

longer  face  than  that  of  his  comrade  who  preceded 
him. 

•'  Where  is  my  darling  ?  "  roared  the  agonized 
parent.     "  Have  ye  brought  him  with  ye  ?  " 

"  N — no,"  said  the  man,  hesitating. 

"  I  will  flog  the  knave  soundly  when  he  comes," 
cried  the  father,  vainly  endeavouring,  under  an  ap- 
pearance of  sternness,  to  hide  his  inward  emotion  and 
tenderness. 

"  Please  your  highness,"  said  the  messenger,  mak- 
ing a  desperate  effort,  "  Count  Otto  is  not  at  the 
Convent." 

"  Know  ye,  knave,  where  he  is  ?  " 

The  swain  solemnly  said,  "  I  do.  He  is  there.'''' 
He  pointed  as  he  spake  to  the  broad  Rhine  that  was 
seen  from  the  casement,  lighted  up  by  the  magnifi- 
cent hues  of  sunset. 

"  There !  How  mean  ye  there  ?  "  gasped  the  Mar- 
grave, wrought  to  a  pitch  of  nervous  fury. 

"  Alas  !  my  good  lord,  when  he  was  in  the  boat 
which  was  to  conduct  him  to  the  Convent,  he — he 
jumped  suddenly  from  it,  and  is  dr — dr — owned." 

"  Carry  that  knave  out  and  hang  him  !  "  said  the 
Margrave,  with  a  calmness  more  dreadful  than  any 
outburst  of  rage.  "  Let  every  man  of  the  boat's 
crew  be  blown  from  the  mouth  of  the  cannon  on  the 
tower — except  the  coxswain,  and  let  him  be      *      *  " 

What  was  to  be  done  with  the  coxswain,  no  one 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  129 

knows  ;  for  at  that  moment,  and  OYercome  by  his 
emotion,  the  Margrave  sunk  down  lifeless  on  the 
floor. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


THE  CHILDE  OF  GODESBERG. 


It  must  be  clear  to  the  dullest  intellect  (if 
amongst  our  dear  readers  we  dare  venture  to  pre- 
sume that  a  dull  intellect  should  be  found),  that  the 
cause  of  the  Margrave's  fainting  fit.  described  in  the 
last  chapter,  was  a  groundless  apprehension,  on  the 
part  of  that  too  solicitous  and  credulous  nobleman, 
regarding  the  fate  of  his  beloved  child.  No,  young 
Otto  was  not  drowned.  Was  ever  hero  of  romantic 
story  done  to  death  so  early  in  the  tale  ?  Young 
Otto  was  not  drowned.  Had  such  been  the  case,  the 
Lord  Margrave  would  infallibly  have  died  at  the 
close  of  the  last  chapter  ;  and  a  few  gloomy  sentences 
at  its  close  would  have  denoted  how  the  lovely  Lady 
Theodora  became  insane  in  the  Convent,  and  how 
Sir  Ludwig  determined,  upon  the  demise  of  the  old 
hermit  (consequent  upon  the  shock  of  hearing  the 
Tiews),  to  retire  to  the  vacant  hermitage,  and  assume 
the  robe,  the  beard,  the  mortifications  of  the  late 
venerable   and    solitary  ecclesiastic.      Otto   was    not 


130  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 

drowned,  and  all  those  personages  of  our  history  are 
consequently  alive  and  well. 

The  boat  containing  the  amazed  young  Count — 
for  he  knew  not  the  cause  of  his  father's  anger,  and 
hence  rebelled  against  the  unjust  sentence  which  the 
Margrave  had  uttered — had  not  rowed  many  miles, 
when  the  gallant  boy  rallied  from  his  temporary  sur- 
prise and  despondency,  and,  determined  not  to  be  a 
slave  in  any  convent  of  any  order,  determined  to 
make  a  desperate  effort  for  escape.  At  a  moment 
when  the  men  were  pulling  hard  against  the  tide, 
and  Kuno,  the  coxswain,  was  looking  carefully  to 
steer  the  barge,  between  some  dangerous  rocks  and 
quicksands,  which  are  frequently  met  with  in  the 
majestic  though  dangerous  river,  Otto  gave  a  sudden 
spring  from  the  boat,  and  with  one  single  flounce  was 
in  the  boiling,  frothing,  swirling  eddy  of  the  stream. 

Fancy  the  agony  of  the  crew  at  the  disappearance 
of  their  young  lord  !  All  loved  him ;  all  would 
have  given  their  lives  for  him  ;  but  as  they  did  not 
know  how  to  swim,  of  course  they  declined  to  make 
any  useless  plunges  in  search  of  him,  and  stood  on 
their  oars  in  mute  wonder  and  grief.  Once^  his  fair 
head  and  golden  ringlets  were  seen  to  arise  from  the 
water  ;  twice^  puffing  and  panting,  it  appeared  for  an 
instant  again ;  thrice,  it  arose  but  for  one  single  mo- 
ment :  it  was  the  last  chance,  and  it  sunk,  sunk,  sunk. 
Knowing  the  reception  they  would  meet  with  from 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  131 

their  liege  lord,  the  men  naturally  did  not  go  home 
to  Godesberg,  but  putting  in  at  the  first  creek  on  the 
opposite  bank,  fled  into  the  Duke  of  Nassau's  territo- 
ry, where,  as  they  have  little  to  do  with  our  tale,  we 
will  leave  them. 

But  they  little  knew  how  expert  a  swimmer  was 
young  Otto.  He  had  disappeared  it  is  true  ;  but 
why  ?  because  he  had  dived.  He  calculated  that  his 
conductors  would  consider  him  drowned,  and  the  de- 
sire of  liberty  lending  him  wings,  or  we  had  rather 
say^?zs,  in  this  instance,  the  gallant  boy  swam  on  be- 
neath the  water,  never  lifting  his  head  for  a  single 
moment  between  Grodesberg  and  Cologne — the  dis- 
tance being  twenty-five  or  thirty  miles. 

Escaping  from  observation,  he  landed  on  the  Deutz 
side  of  the  river,  repaired  to  a  comfortable  and  quiet 
hostel  there,  saying  he  had  had  an  accident  from  a 
boat,  and  thus  accounting  for  the  moisture  of  his  ha- 
biliments, and  while  these  were  drying  before  a  fire 
in  his  chamber  went  snugly  to  bed,  where  he  mused, 
not  without  amaze  of  the  strange  events  of  the  day. 
"  This  morning,"  thought  he,  "  a  noble  and  heir  to  a 
princely  estate — this  evening  an  outcast,  with  but  a 
few  bank-notes  which  my  mamma  luckily  gave  me  on 
my  birth-day.  AVhat  a  strange  entry  into  life  is  this 
for  a  young  man  of  my  family  !  Well,  I  have  cou- 
rage and  resolution  :  my  first  attempt  in  life  has  been 
a  gallant  and  successful  one ;  other  dangers  will  be 


132  A   LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 

conquered  by  similar  bravery."  And  recommending 
himself,  his  unhappy  mother,  and  his  mistaken  father 
to  the  care  of  their  patron  saint,  Saint  Buflfo,  the  gal- 
lant-hearted boy  fell  presently  into  such  a  sleep,  as 
only  the  young,  the  healthy,  the  innocent,  and  the 
extremely  fatigued  can  enjoy. 

The  fatigues  of  the  day  (and  very  few  men  but 
would  be  fatigued  after  swimming  well  nigh  thirty 
miles  under  water)  caused  young  Otto  to  sleep  so 
profoundly,  that  he  did  not  remark  how,  after  Fri- 
day's sunset,  as  a  natural  consequence,  Saturday's 
Phoebus  illumined  the  world,  ay,  and  sunk  at  his  ap- 
pointed hour.  The  serving-maidens  of  the  hostel 
peeping  in,  marked  him  sleeping,  and  blessing  him 
for  a  pretty  youth,  tripped  lightly  from  the  chamber  ; 
the  boots  tried  haply  twice  or  thrice  to  call  him  (as 
boots  will  fain),  but  the  lovely  boy,  giving  another 
snore,  turned  on  his  side,  and  was  quite  unconscious 
of  the  interruption.  In  a  word,  the  youth  slept  for 
six-and-thirty  hours  at  an  elongation  ;  and  the  Sunday 
sun  was  shining,  and  the  bells  of  the  hundred  church- 
es of  Cologne  were  clinking  and  tolling  in  pious  fes- 
tivity, and  the  burghers  and  burgheresses  of  the  town 
were  trooping  to  vespers  and  morning  service  when 
Otto  woke. 

As  he  donned  his  clothes  of  the  richest  Genoa  vel- 
vet, the  astonished  boy  cjould  not  at  first  account  for 
his  difficulty  in  putting  them  on.     "  Marry,"  said  he. 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  133 

"  these  breeches  that  my  blessed  mother  (tears  filled 
his  fine  eyes  as  he  thought  of  her),  that  my  blessed 
mother  had  made  long  on  purpose,  are  now  ten  inches 
too  short  for  me  !  Whir-r-r  !  my  coat  cracks  i'  the 
back,  as  in  vain  I  try  to  buckle  it  round  me  ;  and  the 
sleeves  reach  no  farther  than  my  elbows  !  What  is 
this  mystery  ?  Am  I  grown  fat  and  tall  in  a  single 
night  ?     Ah  !  ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  I  have  it." 

The  young  and  good-humored  Childe  laughed 
merrily.  He  bethought  him  of  the  reason  of  his 
mistake:  his  garments  had  shrunk  from  being  five- 
and-twenty  miles  under  water. 

But  one  remedy  presented  itself  to  his  mind  :  and 
that  we  need  not  say  was  to  purchase  new  ones.  In- 
quiring the  way  to  the  most  genteel  ready-made- 
clothes'  establishment  in  the  city  of  Cologne,  and 
finding  it  was  kept  in  the  Minoriten  Strasse,  by  an 
ancestor  of  the  celebrated  Moses  of  London,  the  no- 
ble Childe  hied  him  towards  the  emporium,  but  you 
may  be  sure  did  not  neglect  to  perform  his  religious 
duties  by  the  way.  Entering  the  cathedral,  he  made 
straight  for  the  shrine  of  Saint  Buffo,  and  hiding 
himself  behind  a  pillar  there  (fearing  lest  he  might  be 
recognised  by  the  Archbishop,  or  any  of  his  father's 
numerous  friends  in  Cologne),  he  proceeded  with  his 
devotions,  as  was  the  practice  of  the  young  nobles  of 
the  age. 

But  though  exceedingly  intent  upon  the  service, 


134  A    LEGEND    OP    THE    RHINE. 


yet  his  eye  could  not  refrain  from  wandering  a  little 
round  about  him,  and  he  remarked  with  surprise  that 
the  whole  church  was  filled  with  archers  ;  and  he 
remembered,  too,  that  he  had  seen  in  the  streets  nu- 
merous other  bands  of  men  similarly  attired  in 
green.  On  asking  at  the  cathedral  porch  the  cause 
of  this  assemblage,  one  of  the  green  ones  said  (in  a 
jape),  ''  Marry,  youngster,  yoit  must  be  green^  not  to 
know  that  we  are  all  bound  to  the  castle  of  His 
Grace  Duke  Adolf  of  Cleves,  who  gives  an  archery 
meeting  once  a  year,  and  prizes  for  which  we  toxophi- 
lites  muster  strong." 

Otto,  whose  course  hitherto  had  been  undetermin- 
ed now  immediately  settled  what  to  do.  He  straight- 
way repaired  to  the  ready-made  emporium  of  Herr 
Moses,  and  bidding  that  gentleman  furnish  him  with 
an  archer's  complete  dress,  Moses  speedily  selected  a 
suit  from  his  vast  stock,  which  fitted  the  youth  to  a  t^ 
and  we  need  not  say  was  sold  at  an  exceedingly  low 
price.  So  attired  (and  bidding  Herr  Moses  a  cordial 
farewell),  young  Otto  was  a  gorgeous,  a  noble,  a  soul- 
inspiring  boy  to  gaze  on.  A  coat  and  breeches  of 
the  most  brilliant  pea-green,  ornamented  with  a  pro- 
fusion of  brass  buttons,  and  fitting  him  with  exqui- 
site tightness,  showed  off  a  figure  unrivalled  for  slim 
symmetry.  His  feet  were  covered  with  peaked  bus- 
kins of  buff  leather,  and  a  belt  round  his  slender  waist 
of  the  same  material,  held  his  knife,  his  tobacco-pipe 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  135 


and  poucli,  and  his  long  shining  dirk,  which,  though 
the  adventurous  youth  had  as  yet  only  employed  it 
to  fashion  wicket-bails,  or  to  cut  bread-and-cheese,  he 
was  now  quite  ready  to  use  against  the  enemy.  His 
personal  attractions  were  enhanced  by  a  neat  white 
hat,  flung  carelessly  and  fearlessly  on  one  side  of  his 
open  smiling  countenance,  and  his  lovely  hair,  curling 
in  ten  thousand  yellow  ringlets,  fell  over  his  shoul- 
ders like  golden  epaulettes,  and  down  his  back  as  far 
as  the  waist-buttons  of  his  coat.  I  warrant  me, 
many  a  lovely  Colnerinn  looked  after  the  handsome 
Childe  with  anxiety,  and  dreamed  that  night  of  Cu- 
pid under  the  guise  of  "  a  bonny  boy  in  green." 

So  accoutred,  the  youth's  next  thought  was. 
that  he  must  supply  himself  with  a  bow.  This  he 
speedily  purchased  at  the  most  fashionable  bowyer's, 
and  of  the  best  material  and  make.  It  was  of  ivory, 
trimmed  with  pink  ribbon,  and  the  cord  of  silk.  An 
elegant  quiver,  beautifully  painted  and  embroidered, 
was  slung  across  his  back,  with  a  dozen  of  the  finest 
arrows,  tipped  with  steel  of  Damascus,  formed  of  the 
branches  of  the  famous  Upas-tree  of  Java,  and 
feathered  with  the  wings  of  the  ortolan.  These  pur- 
chases being  completed  (together  with  that  of  a  knap- 
sack, dressing-case,  change,  &c.),  our  young  adven- 
turer asked  where  was  the  hostel  at  which  the  arch- 
ers were  wont  to  assemble  ?  and  being  informed  that 
it  was  at  the  sign  of  the  Golden  Stag,  hied  hini  to 


136  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 


that  house  of  entertainment,  where,  by  calling  for 
quantities  of  liquor  and  beer,  he  speedily  made  the 
acquaintance  and  acquired  the  good  will  of  a  company 
of  his  future  comrades,  who  happened  to  be  sitting  in 
he  coiFee-room. 

After  they  had  eaten  and  drunken  for  all,  Otto 
said,  addressing  them,  "  When  go  ye  forth,  gentles  ? 
I  am  a  stranger  here,  bound  as  you  to  the  archery 
meeting  of  Duke  Adolf,  an  ye  will  admit  a  youth 
into  your  company  'twill  gladden  me  upon  my  lonely 
way?" 

The  archers  replied.  '•  You  seem  so  young  and 
jolly,  and  you  spend  your  gold  so  very  like  a  gentle- 
man, that  we'll  receive  you  in  our  band  with  pleasure. 
Be  ready,  for  we  start  at  half-j)ast  two  ! "  At  that 
hour  accordingly  the  whole  joyous  company  prepared 
to  move,  and  Otto  not  a  little  increased  his  popu- 
larity among  them  by  stepping  out  and  having  a  con- 
ference with  the  landlord,  which  caused  the  latter  to 
come  into  the  room  where  the  archers  were  assem- 
bled previous  to  departure,  and  to  say,  "  Grentlemen, 
the  bill  is  settled  !  " — words  never  ungrateful  to  an 
archer  yet ;  no,  marry,  nor  to  a  man  of  any  other 
calling  that  I  wot  of. 

They  marched  joyously  for  several  leagues,  sing- 
ing and  joking,  and  telling  of  a  thousand  feats  of 
love  and  chase  and  war.  While  thus  engaged,  some 
one  remarked  to  Otto  that  he  was  not  dressed  in  the 
regular  uniform,  haviiig  no  fenthers  in  his  hat. 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RfflNE.  137 

"  I  daresay  I  will  find  a  feather,"  said  the  lad^ 
smiling. 

Then  another  gibed  because  his  bow  was  new. 

'•  See  that  you  can  use  your  old  one  as  well, 
Master  "Wolfgang,"  said  the  undisturbed  youth. 
His  answers,  his  bearing,  his  generosity,  his  beauty, 
and  his  wit,  inspired  all  his  new  toxophilite  friends 
with  interest  and  curiosity,  and  they  longed  to  see 
whether  his  skill  with  the  bow  corresponded  with 
their  secret  sympathies  for  him. 

An  occasion  for  manifesting  this  skill  did  not 
fail  to  present  itself  soon — as  indeed  it  seldom  does 
to  such  a  hero  of  romance  as  young  Otto  was.  Fate 
seems  to  watch  over  such  :  events  occur  to  them  just 
in  the  nick  of  time ;  they  rescue  virgins  just  as 
ogres  are  on  the  point  of  devouring  them ;  they 
manage  to  be  present  at  court  and  interesting  cere- 
monies, and  to  see  the  most  interesting  people  at  the 
most  interesting  moment  ;  directly  an  adventure  is 
necessary  for  them,  that  adventure  occurs,  and  I,  for 
my  part,  have  often  wondered  with  delight  (and  never 
could  penetrate  the  mystery  of  the  subject)  at  the 
way  in  which  that  humblest  of  romance  heroes, 
Signer  Clown,  when  he  wants  anything  in  the  Pan- 
tomime, straightway  finds  it  to  his  hand.  How  is  it 
that, — suppose  he  wishes  to  dress  himself  up  like  a 
woman  for  instance,  that  minute  a  coal-heaver  walks 
in  with  a  shovel  hat  that  answers  for  a  bonnet ;  at 


138  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE, 

the  very  next  instant  a  butcher's  lad  passing  with  a 
string  of  sausages  and  a  bundle  of  bladders  ■uncon- 
sciously helps  Master  Clown  to  a  necklace  and  a 
tournurc^  and  so  on  through  the  whole  toilet  ?  De- 
pend upon  it  there  is  something  we  do  not  wot  of  in 
that  mysterious  overcomiDg  of  circumstances  by  great 
individuals,  that  apt  and  wondrous  conjuncture  of  the 
Hour  and  the  Man ;  and  so,  for  my  part,  when  I 
heard  the  above  remark  of  one  of  the  archers,  that 
Otto  had  never  a  feather  in  his  bonnet,  I  felt  sure 
that  a  heron  would  sjDring  up  in  the  next  sentence  to 
supply  him  with  an  aigrette. 

And  such  indeed  was  the  fact ;  rising  out  of  a 
morass  by  which  the  archers  were  passing,  a  gallant 
heron,  arching  his  neck,  swelling  his  crest,  placing 
his  legs  behind  him,  and  his  beak  and  red  eyes 
against  the  wind,  rose  slowly,  and  offered  the  fairest 
mark  in  the  world. 

"  Shoot,  Otto,"  said  one  of  the  archers.  "  You 
would  not  shoot  just  now  at  a  crow  because  it  was  a 
foul  bird,  nor  at  a  hawk  because  it  was  a  noble  bird ; 
bring  us  down  yon  heron.      It  flies  slowly." 

But  Otto  was  busy  that  moment  tying  his  shoe- 
string, and  Rudolf,  the  third  best  of  the  archers,  shot 
at  the  bird  and  missed  it. 

"  Shoot,  Otto,"  said  Wolfgang,  a  youth  who  had 
taken  a  liking  to  the  young  archer,  "  the  bird  is  get- 
ting further  and  further." 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 


139 


But  Otto  was  busy  that  moment  whittling  a  wil- 
low twig  he  had  just  cut.  Max,  the  second  best 
archer,  shot  and  missed. 

"  Then,"  said  Wolfgang,  "  I  must  try  myself;  a 
plague  on  you,  young  Springald,  you  have  lost  a 
noble  chance ! " 

Wolfgang  prepared  himself  with  all  his  care,  and 
shot  at  the  bird.  "  It  is  out  of  distance,"  said  he, 
"  and  a  murrain  on  the  bird  !  " 

Otto,  who  by  this  time  had  done  whittling  his 
willow  stick  (having  carved  a  capital  caricature  of 
Wolfgang  upon  it),  flung  the  twig  down,  and  said 
carelessly,  "  Out  of  distance  !  Pshaw  !  We  have 
two  minutes  yet,"  and  fell  to  asking  riddles  and  cut- 
ting jokes,  to  the  which  none  of  the  archers  listened, 
as  they  were  all  engaged,  their  noses  in  air,  watching 
the  retreating  bird. 

"  Where  shall  I  hit  him?  "  said  Otto. 

'•  Gro  to,"  said  Rudolf,  "thou  canst  see  no  limb  of 
him  ;  he  is  no  bigger  than  a  flea." 

"  Here  goes  for  his  right  eye  !  "  said  Otto :  and 
stepping  forward  in  the  English  manner  (which  his 
godfather  having  learnt  in  Palestine,  had  taught 
him),  he  brought  his  bow-string  to  his  ear,  took  a 
good  aim,  allowing  for  the  wind,  and  calculating  the 
parabola  to  a  nicety,  whizz  !  his  arrow  went  off. 

He  took  up  the  willow  twig  again,  and  began 


140  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 

carving  a  head  of  Rudolf  at  the  other  end,  chatting 
and  laughing,  and  singing  a  ballad  the  while. 

The  archers,  after  standing  a  long  time  looking 
skywards,  with  their  noses  in  the  air,  at  last  brought 
them  down  from  the  perpendicular  to  the  horizontal 
position,  and  said,  "  Pooh,  this  lad  is  a  humbug ! 
The  arrow's  lost ;  let's  go  !  " 

"  Heads  !  "  cried  Otto,  laughing.  A  speck  was 
seen  rapidly  descending  from  the  heavens ;  it  grew 
to  be  as  big  as  a  crown-piece,  then  as  a  partridge, 
then  as  a  tea-kettle,  and  flop  !  down  fell  a  mag- 
nificent heron  to  the  ground,  flooring  poor  Max  in 
its  fall. 

"  Take  the  arrow  out  of  his  eye,  Wolfgang," 
said  Otto,  without  looking  at  the  bird,  "  wipe  it, 
and  put  it  back  into  my  quiver."  The  arrow  in- 
deed was  there,  having  penetrated  right  through  the 
pupil. 

"  Are  you  in  league  with  Der  Freischutz  ?  "  said 
Rudolf,  quite  amazed. 

Otto  laughingly  whistled  the  "  Huntsman's  Cho- 
rus," and  said,  "  No,  my  friend.  It  was  a  lucky  shot, 
only  a  lucky  shot.  I  was  taught  shooting,  look  you, 
in  the  fashion  of  merry  England,  where  the  archers 
are  archers  indeed." 

And  so  he  cut  off  the  heron's  wing  for  a  plume 
for  his  hat ;  and  the  archers  walked  on,  much  amazed, 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE  141 

and  saying,  "  What  a  wonderful  country  that  merry 
England  must  be  !  " 

Far  from  feeling  any  envy  at  their  comrade's  suc- 
cess, the  jolly  archers  recognised  his  superiority  with 
pleasure ;  and  Wolfgang  and  Rudolf  especially  held 
out  their  hands  to  the  younker.  and  besought  the 
honour  of  his  friendship.  They  continued  their  walk 
all  day,  and  when  night  fell  made  choice  of  a  good 
hostel  you  may  be  sure,  where,  over  beer,  punch, 
Champagne,  and  every  luxury,  they  drank  to  the 
health  of  the  Duke  of  Cleves,  and  indeed  each  other's 
healths  all  round.  Next  day  they  resumed  their 
march,  and  continued  it  without  interruption,  except 
to  take  in  a  supply  of  victuals  here  and  there  (and  it 
was  found  on  these  occasions  that  Otto,  young  as  he 
was,  could  eat  four  times  as  much  as  the  oldest  archer 
present,  and  drink  to  correspond),  and  these  con- 
tinued refreshments  having  given  them  more  than 
ordinary  strength,  they  determined  on  making  rather 
a  long  march  of  it,  and  did  not  halt  till  after  night- 
fall at  the  gates  of  the  little  town  of  Windeck. 

What  was  to  be  done  ?  the  town-gates  were  shut. 
"  Is  there  no  hostel,  no  castle  where  we  can  sleep?  " 
asked  Otto  of  the  sentinel  at  the  gate.  "I  am  so 
hungry  that,  in  lack  of  better  food,  I  think  I  could 
eat  my  grandmamma." 

The  sentinel  laughed  at  this  hyperbolical  expres- 
sion of  hunger,  and  said,  "  You  had  best  go  sleep  at 


142  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 

the  Castle  of  Windeck  yonder;"  and  adding,  with 
a  peculiarly  knowing  look,  "  Nobody  will  disturb  you 
there." 

At  that  moment  the  moon  broke  out  from  a 
cloud,  and  showed  on  a  hill  hard  by  a  castle  indeed 
— but  the  skeleton  of  a  castle.  The  roof  was  gone, 
the  windows  were  dismantled,  the  towers  were  tum- 
bling, and  the  cold  moonlight  pierced  it  through  and 
through.  One  end  of  the  building  was,  however, 
still  covered  in,  and  stood  looking  still  more  frown- 
ing, vast,  and  gloomy,  even,  than  the  other  part  of 
the  edifice. 

"  There  is  a  lodging,  certainly,"  said  Otto  to  the 
sentinel,  who  pointed  towards  the  castle  with  his  bar- 
tizan ;  "  but  tell  me,  good  fellow,  what  are  we  to  do 
for  a  supper  ?  " 

"  0  the  castellan  of  Windeck  will  entertain  you," 
said  the  man-at-arms  with  a  grin,  and  marched  up 
the  embrasure,  the  while  the  archers,  taking  counsel 
among  themselves,  debated  whether  or  not  they 
should  take  up  their  quarters  in  the  gloomy  and  de- 
serted edifice. 

"  We  shall  get  nothing  but  an  owl  for  supper 
there,"  said  young  Otto.  "  Marry,  lads,  let  us  storm 
the  town ;  we  are  thirty  gallant  fellows,  and  I  have 
heard  the  garrison  is  not  more  than  three  hundred." 
But  the  rest  of  the  party  thought  such  a  way  of  get- 
ting supper  was  not  a  very  cheap  one,  and,  grovelling 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  143 

knaves,  preferred  rather  to  sleep  ignobly  and  without 
victuals,  than  dare  the  assault  with  Otto  and  die,  or 
conquer  something  comfortable. 

One  and  all  then  made  their  way  towards  the 
castle.  They  entered  its  vast  and  silent  halls,  fright- 
ening the  owls  and  bats  that  fled  before  them  with 
hideous  hootings  and  flappings  of  wings,  and  passing 
by  a  multiplicity  of  mouldy  stairs,  dank  reeking  roofs, 
and  rickety  corridors,  at  last  came  to  an  apartment 
which,  dismal  and  dismantled  as  it  was,  appeared  to 
be  in  rather  better  condition  than  the'  neighbouring 
chambers,  and  they  therefore  selected  it  as  their  place 
of  rest  for  the  night.  They  then  tossed  up  which 
should  mount  guard.  The  first  two  hours  of  watch 
fell  to  Otto,  who  was  to  be  succeeded  by  his  young 
though  humble  friend  Wolfgang;  and,  accordingly, 
the  Childe  of  Godesberg,  drawing  his  dirk,  began  to 
pace  upon  his  weary  round ;  while  his  comrades,  by 
various  gradations  of  snoring,  told  how  profoundly 
they  slept,  spite  of  their  lack  of  supper. 

'Tis  needless  to  say  what  were  the  thoughts  of 
the  noble  Childe  as  he  performed  his  two  hours' 
watch  ;  what  gushing  memories  poured  into  his  full 
soul ;  what  '•  sweet  and  bitter"  recollections  of  home 
inspired  his  throbbing  heart ;  and  what  manly  aspi- 
rations after  fame  buoyed  him  up.  "  Youth  is  ever 
confident,"  says  the  bard.  Happy,  happy  season ! 
The  moon-lit  hours   passed  by   on  silver  wings,  the 


144  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 

twinkling  stars  looked  friendly  down  upon  him.  Con- 
fiding in  their  youthful  sentinel,  sound  slept  the 
valorous  toxophilites,  asTup  and  down,  and  there  and 
back  again,  marched  on  the  noble  Childe.  At  length 
his  repeater  told  him,  much  to  his  ssdisfaction,  that 
it  was  half-past  eleven,  the  hour  when  his  watch  was 
to  cease,  and  so  giving  a  playful  kick  to  the  slumber- 
ing Wolfgang,  that  good-humoured  fellow  sprung  up 
from  his  lair,  and,  drawing  his  sword,  proceeded  to 
relieve  Otto. 

The  latter  laid  him  down  for  warmth's  sake  in 
the  very  spot  which  his  comrade  had  left,  and  for 
some  time  could  not  sleep.  Realities  and  visions 
then  began  to  mingle  in  his  mind,  till  he  scarce  knew 
which  was  which.  He  dozed  for  a  minute  ;  then  he 
woke  with  a  start ;  then  he  went  off  again  ;  then  woke 
up  again.  In  one  of  these  half-sleeping  moments  he 
thought  he  saw  a  figure,  as  of  a  woman  in  white 
sliding  into  the  room,  and  beckoning  Wolfgang  from 
it.  He  looked  again.  Wolfgang  was  gone.  At 
that  moment  twelve  o'clock  clanged  from  the  town, 
and  Otto  started  up. 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  145 


CHAPTER    IX. 

THE    LADY    OF    WINDECK. 

As  the  bell  with  iron  tongue  called  midnight,  "Wolf- 
gang the  Archer,  pacing  on  his  watch,  beheld  before 
him  a  pale  female  figure.  He  did  not  know  whence 
she  came  :  but  there  suddenly  she  stood  close  to  him. 
Her  blue,  clear,  glassy  eyes  were  fixed  upon  him. 
Her  form  was  of  faultless  beauty ;  her  face  pale  as 
the  marble  of  the  fairy  statue,  ere  yet  the  sculptor's 
love  had  given  it  life.  A  smile  played  upon  her 
features,  but  it  was  no  warmer  than  the  reflection  of 
a  moonbeam  on  a  lake ;  and  yet  it  was  wondrous 
beautiful.  A  fascination  stole  over  the  senses  of 
young  Wolfgang.  He  stared  at  the  lovely  apparition 
with  fixed  eyes  and  distended  jaws.  She  looked  at 
him  with  ineffable  archness.  She  lifted  one  beauti- 
fully rounded  alabaster  arm,  and  made  a  sign  as  to 
beckon  him  towards  her.  Did  Wolfgang — the  young 
and  lusty  Wolfgang — follow  ?  Ask  the  iron  whether 
it  follows  the  magnet  ? — ask  the  pointer  whether  it 
pursues  the  partridge  through  the  stubble  ? — ask  the 
youth  whether  the  lollypop-shop  does  not  attract  him  1 
Wolfgang  did  follow.  An  antique  door  opened  as 
if  by  magic.  There  was  no  light ;  and  yet  they  saw 
quite  plain ;  they  passed  through  the  innumerable 
1 


146  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 

ancient  chambers,  and  yet  they  did  not  wake  any  of 
the  owls  and  bats  roosting  there.  We  know  not 
through  how  many  apartments  the  young  couple 
passed  ;  but  at  last  they  came  to  one  where  a  feast 
was  prepared  ;  and  on  an  antique  table,  covered  with 
massive  silver,  covers  were  laid  for  two.  The  lady 
took  her  place  at  one  end  of  the  table,  and  with  her 
sweetest  nod  beckoned  Wolfgang  to  the  other  seat. 
He  took  it.  The  table  was  small,  and  their  knees 
met.  He  felt  as  cold  in  his  legs  as  if  he  were  kneel- 
ing against  an  ice-well. 

"  Gallant  archer,"  said  she,  "  you  must  be  hungry 
*^fter  your  day's  march.  What  supper  will  you  have  ? 
Shall  it  be  a  delicate  lobster-salad  ?  or  a  dish  of  ele- 
gant tripe  and  onions?  or  a  slice  of  boar's-head  and 
truffles?  or  a  Welsh  rabbit,  a  la  cave  au  cidre?  or  a 
beefsteak  and  shallot  ?  or  a  couple  of  rognons  a  la 
brochette  ?  Speak,  brave  bowyer  :  you  have  but  to 
order." 

As  there  was  nothing  on  the  table  but  a  covered 
silver  dish,  AVolfgang  thought  the  lady  who  proposed 
such  a  multiplicity  of  delicacies  to  him  was  only 
laughing  at  him  ;  so  he  determined,  to  try  her  with 
something  extremely  rare. 

"  Fair  princess,"  he  said,  '•  I  should  like  very  much 
a  pork-chop  and  some  mashed  potatoes." 

She  lifted  the  cover  :  there  was  such  a  pork-chop 
as  Simpson  never  served,  with  a  dish  of  mashed  pota- 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  147 

toes  that  would  have  formed  at  least  six  portions  in 
our  degenerate  days  in  Rupert-street. 

When  he  had  helped  himself  to  these  delicacies, 
the  lady  put  the  cover  on  the  dish  again,  and  watched 
him  eating  with  interest.  He  was  for  some  time  too 
much  occupied  with  his  own  food  to  remark  that  his 
companion  did  not  eat  a  morsel ;  but  big  as  it  was, 
his  chop  was  soon  gone  ;  the  shining  silver  of  his 
plate  was  scraped  quite  clean  with  his  knife,  and, 
heaving  a  great  sigh,  he  confessed  a  humble  desire 
for  something  to  drink. 

"  Call  for  what  you  like,  sweet  Sir,"  said  the  lady, 
lifting  up  a  silver  fiUagree  bottle,  with  an  India- 
rubber  cork,  ornamented  with  gold, 

"  Then,"  said  Master  Wolfgang — for  the  fellow's 
tastes  were,  in  sooth,  very  humble — '•  I  call  for  half- 
and-half."  According  to  his  wish,  a  pint  of  that  deli- 
cious beverage  was  poured  from  the  bottle,  foaming, 
into  his  beaker. 

Having  emptied  this  at  a  draught,  and  declared 
that  on  his  conscience  it  was  the  best  tap  he  ever 
knew  in  his  life,  the  young  man  felt  his  appetite  re- 
newed ;  and  it  i-s  impossible  to  say  how  many  different 
dishes  he  called  for.  Only  enchantment,  he  was 
afterwards  heard  to  declare  (though  none  of  his 
friends  believed  him)  could  have  given  him  the  appe- 
tite he  possessed  on  that  extraordinary  night.  He 
called  for  another  pork-chop  and   potatoes,  then  for 


148  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 


pickled  salmon ;  then  he  thought  he  would  try  a  de- 
villed turkey-wing.     "  I  adore  the  devil."  said  he. 

"  So  do  I,"  said  the  pale  lady,  with  unwonted 
animation,  and  the  dish  was  served  straightway.  It 
was  succeeded  by  black  puddings,  tripe,  toasted 
cheese,  and — what  was  most  remarkable — every  one 
of  the  dishes  which  he  desired  came  from  under  the 
same  silver  cover — which  circumstance,  when  he  had 
partaken  of  about  fourteen  different  articles,  he  began 
to  find  rather  mysterious. 

'■'  Oh,"  said  the  pale  lady,  with  a  smile,  '•  the  mys- 
tery is  easily  accounted  for :  the  servants  hear  you, 
and  the  kitchen  is  heloior  But  this  did  not  account 
for  the  manner  in  which  more  half-and-half,  bitter 
ale,  punch  (both  gin  and  rum),  and  even  oil  and  vine- 
gar, which  he  took  with  cucumber  to  his  salmon,  came 
out  of  the  self-same  bottle  from  which  the  lady  had 
first  poured  out  his  pint  of  half-and-half 

"  There  are  more  things  in  heaven  and  earth, 
Voracio,"  said  his  arch  entertainer,  when  he  put  this 
question  to  her,  "  than  are  dreamt  of  in  your  philo- 
sophy : "  and,  sooth  to  say,  the  archer  was  by  this 
time  in  such  a  state,  that  he  did  not  find  anything 
wonderful  more. 

"  Are  you  happy,  dear  youth  %  "  said  the  lady,  as, 
after  his  collation,  he  sank  back  in  his  chair. 

"  Oh,  Miss,  aint  I  ! "  was  his  interrogative  and 
yet  affirmative  reply. 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE,  149 

"Should  you  like  such  a  supper  every  night, 
Wolfgang'?"  continued  the  pale  one. 

"  Why.  no  ; "  said  he — "  no,  not  exactly  ;  not  every 
night :  some  nights  I  should  like  oysters." 

"  Dear  youth,"  said  she,  "  be  but  mine,  and  you 
may  have  them  all  the  year  round  !  "  The  unhappy 
boy  was  too  far  gone  to  suspect  anything,  otherwise 
this  extraordinary  speech  would  have  told  him  that 
he  was  in  suspicious  company.  A  person  who  can 
offer  oysters  all  the  year  round  can  live  to  no  good 
purpose. 

'•  Shall  I  sing  you  a  song,  dear  archer?  "  said  the 
lady.  "  Sweet  love  !  "  said  he.  now  much  excited, 
"  strike  up,  and  I  will  join  the  chorus." 

She  took  down  her  mandolin,  and  commenced  a 
ditty.  'Twas  a  sweet  and  wild  one.  It  told  how  a 
lady  of  high  lineage,  cast  her  eyes  on  a  peasant  page  ; 
it  told  how  nought  could  her  love  assuage,  her  suitor's 
wealth  and  her  father's  rage  :  it  told  how  the  youth 
did  his  foes  engage ;  and  at  length  they  went  off  in 
the  Gretna  stage,  the  high-born  dame  and  the  peasant 
page,  Wolfgang  beat  time,  waggled  his  head,  sung 
wofuUy  out  of  tune  as  the  song  proceeded  ;  and  if  he 
had  not  been  too  intoxicated  with  love  and  other  ex- 
citement, he  would  have  remarked  how  the  pictures 
on  the  wall,  as  the  lady  sung,  began  to  waggle  their 
heads  too,  and  nod  and  grin  to  the  music.     The  song 


150  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 

ended,  I  am  the  lady  of  high  lineage :  Archer,  will 
you  be  the  peasant  page  ? 

"  I'll  follow  you  to  the  devil !  "  said  Wolfgang. 

'•  Come,"  replied  the  lady,  glaring  wildly  on  him 
— "  come  to  the  chapel ;  we'll  be  married  this  min- 
ute !  " 

She  held  out  her  hand — Wolfgang  took  it.  It 
was  cold,  damp — deadly  cold  ;  and  on  they  went  to 
t]^  ■  chapel. 

As  they  passed  out,  the  two  pictures  over  the  wall, 
of  a  gentleman  and  lady,  tripped  out  of  their  frames, 
skipped  noiselessly  down  to  the  ground,  and  making 
the  retreating  couple  a  profound  curtsey  and  bow, 
took  the  places  which  they  had  left  at  the  table. 

Meariw^hile  the  young  couple  passed  on  toAvards  the 
chapel,  threading  innumerable  passages,  and  passing 
through  chambers  of  great  extent.  As  they  came 
along,  all  the  portraits  on  the  wall  stepped  out  of 
their  frames  to  follow  them.  One  ancestor,  of  whom 
there  was  only  a  bust,  frowned  in  the  greatest  rage, 
because,  having  no  legs,  his  pedestal  would  not  move  ; 
and  several  sticking-plaster  profiles  of  the  former 
lords  of  Windeck  looked  quite  black  at  being,  for 
similar  reasons,  compelled  to  keep  their  places. 
However,  there  was  a  goodly  procession  formed  be- 
hind Wolfgang  and  his  bride;  and  by  the  time  they 
had  reached  the  church,  they  had  nearly  a  hundred 
followers. 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  151 


The  church  was  splendidly  illuminated ;  the  old 
banners  of  the  old  knights  glittered  as  they  do  at 
Drury  Lane.  The  organ  set  up  of  itself  to  play  the 
Bridesmaid's  Chorus.  The  choir-chairs  were  filled 
with  people  in  black 

"  Come,  love."  said  the  pale  lady. 

"  I  don't  see  the  parson,"  exclaimed  Wolfgang, 
spite  of  himself  rather  alarmed. 

"  Oh,  the  parson  !  that's  the  easiest  thing  in  the 
world !  I  say.  Bishop !"  said  the  lady,  stooping 
down. 

Stooping  down — and  to  what?  Why,  upon  my 
word  and  honour,  to  a  great  brass  plate  on  the  floor, 
over  which  they  were  passing,  and  on  which  was  en- 
graven the  figure  of  a  bishop — and  a  very  ugly  bishop 
too — with  crosier  and  mitre,  and  lifted  finger,  on 
which  sparkled  the  episcopal  ring.  '•  Do,  my  dear 
lord,  come  and  marry  us,"  said  the  lady,  with  a 
levity  which  shocked  the  feelings  of  her  bride- 
groom. 

The  Bishop  got  up  ;  and  directly  he  rose,  a  dean 
who  was  sleeping  under  a  large  slate  near  him, 
came  bowing  and  cringing  up  to  him  :  while  a  canon 
of  the  cathedral  (whose  name  was  Schidnischmidt) 
began  grinning  and  making  fun  at  the  pair.  The 
ceremony  was  begun,  and     ******** 

As  the  clock  struck  twelve,   young  Otto  bounded 


152  A    LEGEND    OP    THE    RHINE. 

up  and  remarked  the  absence  of  bis  companion  Wolf- 
gang. The  idea  be  bad  bad,  that  bis  friend  disap- 
peared in  company  witb  a  wbite  robed  female,  struck 
him  more  and  more.  "  I  will  follow  tbem,"  said  be  ; 
and,  calling  to  tbe  next  on  tbe  watcb  (old  Snooz,  wbo 
was  rigbt  unwilling  to  forego  bis  sleep),  be  rusbed 
away  by  tbe  door  tbrougb  which  be  bad  seen  Wolf- 
gang and  bis  temptress  take  their  way. 

That  be  did  not  find  them  was  not  bis  fault.  Tbe 
castle  was  vast,  tbe  chamber  dark.  There  were  a 
thousand  doors,  and  what  wonder  that,  after  he  had 
once  lost  sight  of  them,  the  intrepid  Childe  should 
not  be  able  to  follow  in  their  steps  ?  As  might  be 
expected,  he  took  the  wrong  door,  and  wandered  for 
at  least  three  hours  about  the  dark  enormous  solitary 
castle,  calling  out  Wolfgang's  name  to  the  careless 
and  indifferent  echoes,  knocking  bis  young  shins 
against  the  ruins  scattered  in  the  darkness,  but  still 
with  a  spirit  entirely  undaunted,  a  firm  resolution  to 
aid  bis  absent  comrade.  Brave  Otto  !  thy  exertions 
were  rewarded  at  last ! 

For  be  lighted  at  length  upon  tbe  very  apartment 
where  Wolfgang  bad  partaken  of  supper,  and  where 
tbe  old  couple  wbo  bad  been  in  the  picture-frames, 
and  turned  out  to  be  the  lady's  father  and  mother, 
were  now  sitting  at  tbe  table. 

"  Well,  Bertha  has  got  a  husband  at  last,"  said 
the  lady. 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  153 


"  After  waiting  four  hundred  and  fifty-three  years 
for  one,  it  was  quite  time."  said  the  gentleman.  (He 
was  dressed  in  powder  and  a  pigtail,  quite  in  the  old 
fashion.) 

"  The  husband  is  no  great  things,''  continued  the 
kdy,  taking  snuff:  "  A  low  fellow,  my  dear :  a  butch- 
er's son.  I  believe.  Did  you  see  how  the  wretch  ate 
at  supper?  To  think  my  daughter  should  have  to 
marr}^  an  archer  !  " 

"  There  are  archers  and  archers."'  said  the  old 
man.  "  Some  archers  are  snobs,  as  your  ladyship 
states  :  some,  on  the  contrary,  are  gentlemen  by  birth, 
at  least,  though  not  by  breeding.  Witness  young 
Otto,  the  Landgrave  of  Godesberg's  son.  who  is  list- 
ening at  the  door  like  a  lackey,  and  whom  I  intend  to 
run  through  the — '' 

'•  Law,  Baron  !  "  said  the  lady. 
"  I  will,  though,"  replied  the  Baron,  drawing  an 
immense  sword,  and  glaring  round  at  Otto :  but 
though  at  the  sight  of  that  sword  and  that  scowl  a 
less  valorous  youth  would  have  taken  to  his  heels,  the 
undaunted  Childe  advanced  at  once  into  the  apart- 
ment. He  wore  round  his  neck  a  relic  of  St.  Buffo 
(the  tip  of  the  saint's  ear.  which  had  been  cut  off  at 
Constantinople).  "  Fiends  !  I  command  you  to  re- 
treat !"  said  he,  holding  up  this  sacred  charm,  which  his 
mamma  had  fastened  on  him :  and  at  the  sight  of  it,  with 

an  uaeaxthly  yell,  the  ghost  of  the  Barou  and  the  Ba- 

1* 


154  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 

roness  sprung  back  into  their  picture-frames,  as  Clown 
goes  through  a  clock  in  a  pantomime. 

He  rushed  through  the  open  door  by  which  the 
unlucky  Wolfgang  had  passed  with  his  demoniacal 
bride,  and  went  on  and  on  through  the  vast  gloomy 
chambers  lighted  by  the  ghastly  moonshine  :  the  noise 
of  the  organ  in  the  chapel,  the  lights  in  the  kaleido- 
scopic windows,  directed  him  towards  that  edifice.  He 
rushed  to  the  door :  'twas  barred  !  He  knocked  :  the 
beadles  were  deaf.  He  applied  his  inestimable  relic 
to  the  lock,  and — whizz  !  crash  I  clang  !  bang  !  whang  ! 
— the  gate  flew  open  !  the  organ  went  off  in  a  fugue 
— the  lights  quivered  over  the  tapers,  and  then  went 
off  towards  the  ceiling — the  ghosts  assembled  rushed 
away  with  a  skurry  and  a  scream — the  bride  howled, 
and  vanished — the  fat  bishop  waddled  back  under  his 
brass  plate — the  dean  flounced  down  into  his  family 
vault — and  the  canon  Schidnischmidt,  who  was  mak- 
ing a  joke,  as  usual,  on  the  bishop,  was  obliged  to 
stop  at  the  very  point  of  his  epigram,  and  to  disap- 
pear into  the  void  whence  he  came. 

Otto  fell  fainting  at  the  porch,  while  Wolfgang 
tumbled  lifeless  down  at  the  altar-steps  ;  and  in  this 
situation  the  archers,  when  they  arrived,  found  the 
two  youths.  They  were  resuscitated,  as  we  scarce 
need  say ;  but  when,  in  incoherent  accents,  they  came 
to  tell  their  wondrous  tale,  some  sceptics  among  the 
archers  said — '•  Pooh  !  they  were  intoxicated  !  "  while 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  155 

others,  nodding  their  older  heads,  exclaimed — ''  They 
have  seen  the  Lady  of  Windech  I  "  and  recalled  the 
stories  of  many  other  young  men,  who,  inveigled  by 
her  devilish  arts,  had  not  been  so  lucky  as  Wolfgang, 
and  had  disappeared — for  ever  ! 

This  adventure  bound  Wolfgang  heart  and  soul  to 
his  gallant  preserver  ;  and  the  archers — it  being  now 
morning,  and  the  cocks  crowing  lustily  round  about — 
pursued  their  way  without  further  delay  to  the  castle 
of  the  noble  patron  of  Toxophilites,  the  gallant  Duke 
of  Cleves. 


CHAPTER   X. 

THE    BATTLE    OF    THE    BOWMEN, 

Although  there  lay  an  immense  number  of  castles 
and  abbeys  between  Windeck  and  Cleves.  for  every 
one  of  which  the  guide-books  have  a  legend  and  a 
ghost,  who  might,  with  the  commonest  stretch  of  in- 
genuity, be  made  to  waylay  our  adventurers  on  the 
road  ;  yet,  as  the  journey  would  be  thus  almost  inter- 
minable, let  us  cut  it  short  by  saying  that  the  travel- 
lers reached  Cleves  without  any  further  accident,  and 
found  the  place  thronged  with  visitors  for  the  meeting 
next  day. 

And  here  it  would  be  easy  to  describe  the  company 


156  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 

which  arrived,  and  make  display  of  antiquarian  lore. 
Now  we  would  represent  a  cavalcade  of  knights  arriv- 
ing, with  their  pages  carrying   their  shining  helms  of 
gold,  and  the  stout  esquires,  bearers   of  lance   aqd 
banner.     Anon  would  arrive  a  fat  abbot  on  his  am- 
bling pad,  surrounded  by  the  white-robed  companions 
of  his  convent.     Here   should  come  the  gleemen  and 
jongleurs,  the  minstrels,  the  mountebanks,  the  party- 
coloured  gipsies,  the  dark-eyed  nut-brown  Zigeunerin- 
nen ;  then  a  troop  of  peasants,  chanting  Rhine-songs, 
and  leading  in  their  ox-drawn  carts  the  peach-cheeked 
girls  from  the  vine-lands.     Next  we  would  depict  the 
litters  blazoned  with  armorial  bearings,  from  between 
the  broidered  curtains  of  which  peeped  out  the  swan- 
like necks  and  the  haughty  faces  of  the  blonde  ladies 
of  the  castles.  But  for  these  descriptions  we  have  not 
space  ;  and  the  reader  is  referred  to  the  account  of 
the  tournament  in  the   ingenious  novel  of  Ivanhoe, 
where  the  above  phenomena  are  described  at  length. 
Suffice  it  to  say,  that  Otto  and  his  companions  arriv- 
ed at  the  town  of  Cleves,  and,  hastening  to  a  hostel, 
reposed  themselves  after  the   day's  march,  and  pre- 
pared them  for  the  encounter  of  the  morrow. 

That  morrow  came ;  and  as  the  sports  were  to 
begin  early.  Otto  and  his  comrades  hastened  to  the 
field,  armed  with  their  best  bows  and  arrows,  you 
may  be  sure,  and  eager  to  distinguish  themselves,  aa 
were  the  multitude  of  other  archers  assembled.   They 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  157 


were  from  all  neighbouring  countries — crowds  of 
English,  as  jou  may  fancy,  armed  with  Murray's 
guide-books,  troops  of  chattering  Frenchmen,  Jews 
with  roulette-tables,  Frankfort  and  Tyrolese,  with 
gloves  and  trinkets — all  hied  towards  the  field  where 
the  butts  were  set  up,  and  the  archery  practice  was 
to  be  held.  The  Childe  and  his  brother  archers  were, 
it  need  not  be  said,  early  on  the  ground. 

But  what  words  of  mine  can  describe  the  young 
gentleman's  emotion  when,  preceded  by  a  band  of 
trumpets,  bagpipes,  ophicleides,  and  other  wind  in- 
struments, the  Prince  of  Cleves  appeared  with  the 
Princess  Helen,  his  daughter  ?  And,  ah  !  what  ex- 
pressions of  my  humble  pen  can  do  justice  to  the 
beauty  of  that  young  lady?  Fancy  every  charm 
which  decorates  the  person,  every  virtue  which  orna- 
ments the  mind,  every  accomplishment  which  renders 
charming  mind  and  charming  person  doubly  charming, 
and  then  you  will  have  but  a  faint  and  feeble  idea  of 
the  beauties  of  her  highness  the  Princess  Helen. 
Fancy  a  complexion  such  as  they  say  (I  know  not 
with  what  justice)  Rowland's  Kalydor  imparts  to  the 
users  of  that  cosmetic  ;  fancy  teeth,  to  which  orient 
pearls  are  like  Wallsend  coals ;  eyes,  which  were  so 
blue,  tender,  and  bright,  that  while  they  run  you 
through  with  their  lustre,  they  healed  you  with  their 
kindness ;  a  neck  and  waist,  so  ravishingly  slender 
and  graceful,  that  the  least  that  is  said  about  them 


158  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 

the  better  ;  a  foot  which  fell  upon  the  flowers  no 
heavier  than  a  dewdrop — and  this  charming  person, 
set  off  by  the  most  elegant  toilet  that  ever  milliner 
devised  !  The  lovely  Helen's  hair  (which  was  as  black 
as  the  finest  varnish  for  boots)  was  so  long,  that  it 
was  borne  on  a  cushion  several  yards  behind  her  by 
the  maidens  of  her  train ;  and  a  hat,  set  off  with 
moss-roses,  sun-flowers,  bugles,  birds  of  paradise,  gold 
lace,  and  pink  ribbon,  gave  her  a  distingue  air,  which 
would  have  set  the  editor  of  the  Morning  Post  mad 
with  love.  » 

It  had  exactly  the  same  effect  upon  the  noble 
Childe  of  Godesberg,  as  leaning  on  his  ivory  bow, 
with  his  legs  crossed,  he  stood  and  gazed  on  her,  as 
Cupid  gazed  on  Psyche.  Their  eyes  met:  it  was  all 
over  with  both  of  them.  A  blush  came  at  one  and 
the  same  minute  budding  to  the  cheek  of  either.  A 
simultaneous  throb  beat  in  those  young  hearts  !  They 
loved  each  other  for  ever  from  that  instant.  Otto 
still  stood,  cross-legged,  enraptured,  leaning  on  his 
ivory  bow;  but  Helen,  calling  to  a  maiden  for  her 
pocket-handkerchief,  blew  her  beautiful  Grecian  nose 
in  order  to  hide  her  agitation.  Bless  ye,  bless  ye, 
pretty  ones  !  I  am  old  now  ;  but  not  so  old  but  that 
I  kindle  at  the  tale  of  love.  Theresa  Mac  Whirter 
too  has  lived  and  loved.     Heigho  ! 

Who  is  that  chief  that  stands  behind  the  truck 
whereon  are  seated  the  Princess  and  the  stout  old 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  159 

lord,  her  father  ?     T5|ho  is  he  whose  hair  is  of  the 
carroty  hue  ?  whose  eyes,  across   the  snubby  bunch 
of  a  nose,  are  perpetually  scowling  at  each  other  ;  who 
has  a  hump-back,  and  a   hideous  mouth,  surrounded 
with   bristles,   and  crammed  full   of  jutting   yellow 
odious  teeth.     Although  he  wears  a  sky-blue  doublet 
laced  with  silver,  it  only  serves  to  render  his  vulgar 
punchy  figure  doubly  ridiculous  :   although  his  nether 
garment  is  of  salmon-coloured  velvet,  it  only  draws 
the  more  attention  to  his  legs,  which  are  disgustingly 
crooked  and  bandy.    A  xose-coloured  hat,  with  tower- 
ing pea-green  ostrich  plumes,  looks  absurd  on  his  bull 
head  ;  and  though  it  is  a  time  of  peace,  the  wretch  is 
armed  with    a  multiplicity  of  daggers,  knives,  yata- 
ghans, dirks,  sabres,  and  scimitars,  which  testify  his 
truculent  and  bloody  disposition.     'Tis   the  terrible 
Rowsky  de  Donnerblitz,  Margrave  of  Eulenschrecken- 
stein.     Report  says  he  is  a  suitor  for  the  hand  of  the 
lovely    Helen.     He    addresses   various    speeches   of 
gallantry  to  her,  and  grins  hideously  as  he  thrusts  his 
disgusting  head   over   her  lily    shoulder.     But   she 
turns   away  from   him  !   turns   and  shudders — aye,  as 
she  would  at  a  black  dose  ! 

Otto  stands  gazing  still,  and  leaning  on  his  bow. 
'•  What  is  the  prize  ?  "  asks  one  archer  of  another. 
There  are  two  prizes — a  velvet  cap,  embroidered  by 
the  hand  of  the  Princess,  and  a  chain  of  massive  gold, 
of  enormous  value  ;  both  lie  on  cushions  before  her. 


160  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 


"  I  know  which  I  shall  qjjjoose,  when  I  win  the 
first  prize,"  says  a  swarthy,  savage,  and  bandy-legged 
archer,  who  bears  the  owl  gules  on  a  black  shield,  the 
cognisance  of  the  Lord  Rowsky  de  Donnerblitz. 

"Which,  fellow?"  says  Otto,  turning  fiercely 
pon  him. 

"  The  chain,  to  be  sure  !  "  says  the  leering  archer. 
"  You  do  not  suppose  I  am  such  a  flat  as  to  choose 
that  velvet  gini crack  there?  "  Otto  laughed  in  scorn, 
and  began  to  prepare  his  bow.  The  trumpets  sound- 
ing, proclaimed  that  the  sports  were  about  to  com- 
mence. 

Is  it  necessary  to  describe  them  ?  No  :  that  has 
already  been  done  in  the  novel  of  Ivanhoe,  before 
mentioned.  Fancy  the  archers  clad  in  Lincoln  green, 
all  coming  forward  in  turn,  and  firing  at  the  targets. 
Some  hit.  some  missed  ;  those  that  missed  were  fain 
to  retire  amidst  the  jeers  of  the  multitudinous  spec- 
tators. Those  that  hit  began  new  trials  of  skill ;  but 
it  was  easy  to  see,  from  the  first,  that  the  battle  lay 
between  Squintoff  (the  Rowsky  archer)  and  the  young 
hero,  with  the  golden  hair  and  the  ivory  bow.  Squin- 
toff's  fame  as  a  marksman  was  known  throughout 
Europe;  but  who  was  his  young  competitor?  Ah! 
there  was  one  heart  in  the  assembly  that  beat  most 
anxiously  to  know.     'Twas  Helen's. 

The  crowning  trial  arrived.  The  bull's-eye  of  the 
target,   set  up  at  three   quarters  of  a  mile  distance 


A    LEGEND    OF    TELE    RHINE,  161 

from  the  archers,  was  so  small,  that  it  required  a  very 
clever  mau  indeed  to  see,  much  more  to  hit  it :  and 
as  Squintoff  was  selecting  his  arrow  for  the  final  trial, 
the  Rowsky  flung  a  purse  of  gold  towards  his  archer, 
saying — "  Squintoff,  an  ye  win  the  prize,  the  purse  is 
thine."  "  I  may  as  well  pocket  it  at  once,  your  honour," 
said  the  bowman,  with  a  sneer  at  Otto.  "  This  young 
chick,  who  has  been  lucky  as  yet,  will  hardly  hit  such 
a  mark  as  that;"  and,  taking  his  aim,  Squintofi"  dis- 
charged his  arrow  right  into  the  very  middle  of  the 
bull's  eye. 

"  Can  you  mend  that,  young  springald  ?  "  said  he, 
as  a  shout  rent  the  air  at  his  success,  as  Helen  turn- 
ed pale  to  think  that  the  champion  of  her  secret 
heart  was  likely  to  be  overcome,  and  as  Squintoff, 
pocketing  the  Rowsky's  money,  turned  to  the  noble 
boy  of  Grodesberg. 

'•  Has  anybody  got  a  pea  ?  "  asked  the  lad.  Every- 
body laughed  at  his  droll  request  ;  and  an  old  woman, 
who  was  selling  porridge  in  the  crowd,  hanc^d  him 
the  vegetable  which  he  demanded.  It  was  a  dry  and 
yellow  pea.  Otto,  stepping  up  to  the  target,  caused 
Squintoff  to  extract  his  arrow  from  the  bull's-eye, 
and  placed  in  the  orifice  made  by  the  steel  point  of 
the  shaft,  the  pea  which  he  had  received  from  the 
old  woman.  He  then  came  back  to  his  place.  As 
he  prepared  to  shoot,  Helen  was  so  overcome  by 
emotion,  that  'twas  thought  she  would  have  fainted. 


162  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 

Never,  never  had  she  seen  a  being  so  beautiful  as  the 
young  hero  now  before  her  ! 

He  looked  almost  divine.  He  flung  back  his  long 
clusters  of  hair  from  his  bright  eyes  and  tall  forehead  ; 
the  blush  of  health  mantled  on  his  cheek,  from  which 
the  barber's  weapon  had  never  shorn  the  down.  He 
took  his  bow,  and  one  of  his  most  elegant  arrows, 
and,  poising  himself  lightly  on  his  right  leg,  he  flung 
himself  forward,  raising  his  left  leg  on  a  level  with 
his  ear.  He  looked  like  Apollo,  as  he  stood  balanc- 
ing himself  there.  He  discharged  his  dart  from  the 
thrummino-  bowstrino; ;  it  clove  the  blue  air — whizz! 

'■''He  has  split  the  ^:>e(2.'"  said  the  Princess,  and 
fainted.  The  Rowsky,  with  one  eye,  hurled  an  in- 
dignant look  at  the  boy.  while  with  the  other  he 
levelled  (if  aught  so  crooked  can  be  said  to  level  any- 
thing) a  furious  glance  at  his  archer. 

The  archer  swore  a  sulky  oath.  "  He  is  the  bet- 
ter man  !  "  said  he.  "  I  suppose,  young  chap,  you 
take  tfte  gold  chain  ?  " 

"The  gold  chain?"  said  Otto.  '■  Prefer  a  gold 
chain  to  a  cap  worked  by  your  august  hand  ?  Never  ! " 
and,  advancing  to  the  balcony  where  the  Princess, 
who  now  came  to  herself,  was  sitting,  he  kneeled 
down  before  her,  and  received  the  velvet  cap,  which, 
blushing  as  scarlet  as  the  cap  itself,  the  Princess 
Helen  placed  on  his  golden  ringlets.  Once  more 
their  eyes  met — their   hearts    thrilled.       They  had 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  163 

never  spoken,  but  they  knew  they  loved  each  other 
for  ever. 

"  Wilt  thou  take  service  with  the  Rowsky  of 
Donnerblitz  ? "  said  that  individual  to  the  youth. 
'•  Thou  shalt  be  captain  of  my  archers  in  place  of 
yon  blundering  nincompoop,  whom  thou  hast  over- 
come." 

"  Yon  blundering  nincompoop  is  a  skilful  and 
gallant  archer,"  replied  Otto,  haughtily ;  "  and  I 
will  not  take  service  with  the  Rowsky  of  Donner- 
blitz." 

"  Wilt  thou  enter  the  household  of  the  Prince 
of  Cleves?  "  said  the  father  of  Helen,  laughing,  and 
not  a  little  amused  at  the  haughtiness  of  the  humble 
archer. 

'•  I  would  die  for  the  Duke  of  Cleves  and  his 
family^''  said  Otto,  bowing  low.  He  laid  a  particu- 
lar and  a  tender  emphasis  on  the  word  family. 
Helen  knew  what  he  meant.  SJie  was  the  family. 
In  fact,  her  mother  was  no  more,  and  her  papa  had 
no  other  offspring. 

'•  What  is  thy  name,  good  fellow  ? "  said  the 
Prince,  that  my  steward  may  enrol  thee. 

"  Sir,"  said  Otto,  again  blushing,  "  I  am  Otto 
THE  Archer." 


164  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 


CHAPTER  XL 

THE    MARTYR    OF    LOVE. 

The  archers  who  had  travelled  in  company  with 
young  Otto,  gave  a  handsome  dinner  in  compliment 
to  the  success  of  our  hero,  at  which  his  friend  dis- 
tinguished himself  as  usual  in  the  eating  and  drink- 
ing department.  Squintoff,  the  Kowsky  bowman,  de- 
clined to  attend,  so  great  was  the  envy  of  the  brute 
at  the  youthful  hero's  superiority.  As  for  Otto  him- 
self, he  sat  on  the  right  hand  of  the  chairman,  but  it 
was  remarked  that  he  could  not  eat.  Gentle  reader 
of  my  page  !  thou  knowest  why  fall  well.  He  was 
too  much  in  love  to  have  any  appetite ;  for  though  I 
myself,  when  labouring  under  that  passion,  never 
found  my  consumption  of  victuals  diminish  ;  yet  re- 
member our  Otto  was  a  hero  of  romance,  and  they 
never  are  hungry  when  they're  in  love. 

The  next  day,  the  young  gentleman  proceeded  to 
enrol  himself  in  the  corps  of  Archers  of  the  Prince 
of  Cleves,  and  with  him  came  his  attached  squire, 
who  vowed  he  never  would  leave  him.  As  Otto 
threw  aside  his  own  elegant  dress,  and  donned  the 
livery  of  the  House  of  Cleves,  the  noble  Childe 
sighed  not  a  little — ^twas  a  splendid  uniform,  'tis 
true,  but  still  it  was  a  livery,  and  one  of  his  proud 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  165 

spirit  ill  bears  another's  cognizances.  '•  They  are 
the  colours  of  the  Prince's,  however."  said  he.  con- 
doling himself:  "and  what  suffering  would  I  not  un- 
lergo  for  her  ^  "  As  for  Wolfgang,  the  squire,  it 
aay  well  be  supposed  that  the  good-natured,  low- 
c:vn  fellow,  had  no  such  scruples:  but  he  was  glad 
ncujh  to  exchange  for  the  pink  hose,  the  yellow 
acket,  the  pea-green  cloak,  and  orange-tawny  hat, 
\^ith  wuich  the  Duke's  steward  supplied  him,  the 
homely  patt^ied  doublet  of  green  which  he  had  worn 
for  years  pf^st. 

"  Look  at  yen  two  archers,"  said  the  Prince  of 
Cleves  to  his  gutsc  the  Rowsky  of  Donnerblitz,  as 
they  were  strolling  on  the  battlements  after  dinner, 
smoking  their  cigars  as  usual.  His  Highness  pointed 
to  our  two  young  friends,  who  were  mounting  guard 
for  the  first  time.  '•  See  yon  two  bowmen — mark 
their  bearing !  One  is  the  youth  who  beat  thy 
Squintoff,  and  t'other,  an  I  mistake  not,  won  the  third 
prize  at  the  butts.  Both  wear  the  same  uniform — 
the  colours  of  my  house — yet,  would'st  not  swear  that 
the  one  was  but  a  churl,  and  the  other  a  noble  gen- 
tleman? " 

'•Which  looks  like  the  nobleman?"  said  the 
Kowsky,  as  black  as  thunder. 

'•  Which  ?  why  young  Otto,  to  be  sure,"  said  the 
Princess  Helena,  eagerly.  The  young  lady  was  fol- 
lowing the  pair,  but  under  pretence  of  disliking  the 


166  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 

odour  of  the  cigar,  she  had  refused  the  Rowsky's 
proffered  arm,  and  was  loitering  behind  with  her 
parasol. 

Her  interposition  in  favour  of  her  young  protege 
only  made  the  black  and  jealous  E.owsky  more  ill- 
humoured.  "  How  long  is  it,  Sir  Prince  of  Cleves," 
said  he,  "  that  the  churls  who  wear  your  livery  per- 
mit themselves  to  wear  the  ornaments  of  noble 
knights  ?  What  but  a  noble  dare  wear  ringlets 
such  as  yon  springald's  ?  Ho,  archer  ! "  roared  he, 
"  come  hither,  fellow."  And  Otto  stood  before  him. 
As  he  came,  and  presenting  arms  stood  respectfully 
before  the  Prince  and  his  savage  guest,  he  looked  for 
one  moment  at  the  lovely  Helena — their  eyes  met, 
their  hearts  beat  simultaneously :  and,  quick,  two 
little  blushes  appeared  in  the  cheek  of  either.  I 
have  seen  one  ship  at  sea  answering  another's 
signal  so. 

While  they  are  so  regarding  each  other,  let  us 
just  remind  our  readers  of  the  great  estimation  in 
which  the  hair  was  held  in  the  North.  Only  nobles 
were  permitted  to  wear  it  long.  When  a  man  dis- 
graced himself,  a  shaving  was  sure  to  follow.  Penal- 
ties were  inflicted  upon  villains  or  vassals,  who  sported 
ringlets.  See  the  works  of  Aurelius  Tonsor  ;  Hir- 
sutus  de  Nobilitate  Capillari  ;  Rolandus  de  Oleo 
Macassari ;  Schnurrbart  Frisirische  Alterthumskun- 
de.  &c. 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    E-HINE.  167 

"We  must  have  those  ringlets  of  thine  cut, 
good  fellow,"  said  the  Duke  of  Cleves  good-natured- 
ly, but  wishing  to  spare  the  feelings  of  his  gallant  re- 
cruit. "  'Tis  against  the  regulation  cut  of  my  archer 
guard." 

"  Cut  off  my  hair  !  "  cried  Otto,  agonised. 

"  Ay.  and  thine  ears  with  it.  yokel.''  roared  Don- 
nerblitz. 

'•  Peace,  noble  Eulenschreckenstein  !  "  said  the 
Duke  with  dignity ;  '•  let  the  Duke  of  Cleves  deal  as 
he  will  with  his  own  men-at-arms — and  you,  young 
Sir,  unloose  the  grip  of  thy  dagger." 

Otto,  indeed,  had  convulsively  grasped  his  snick- 
ersnee, with  intent  to  plunge  it  into  the  heart  of  the 
Rowsky,  but  his  politer  feelings  overcame  him.  ''  The 
Count  need  not  fear,  my  Lord,"  said  he — "  a  lady  is 
present."  And  he  took  off  his  orange-tawny  cap, 
and  bowed  low.  Ah  !  what  a  pang  shot  through 
the  heart  of  Helena,  as  she  thought  that  those 
lovely  ringlets  must  be  shorn  from  that  beautiful 
head ! 

Otto's  mind  was,  too,  in  commotion.  His  feel- 
ings as  a  gentleman — let  us  add,  his  pride  as  a 
man — for  who  is  not.  let  us  ask,  proud  of  a  good 
head  of  hair  ? — waged  war  within  his  soul.  He  ex- 
postulated with  the  Prince.  "It  was  never  in  his 
contemplation,"  he  said,  "  on  taking  service,  to  un- 
dergo the  operation  of  hair-cutting." 


168  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 

'•  Thou  art  free  to  go  or  stay,  Sir  Archer,"  said 
the  Prince  pettishly.  ''  I  will  have  no  churls  imi- 
tating noblemen  in  my  service ;  I  will  bandy  no  con- 
ditions with  archers  of  my  guard." 

"  My  resolve  is  taken,"  said  Otto,  irritated  too 
in  his  turn.      "  I  will     .     .     .  " 

"  What !  "  cried  Helena,  breathless  with  intense 
agitation. 

'"I  will  stay^'^  answered  Otto.  The  poor  girl  al- 
most fainted  with  joy.  The  Rowsky  frowned  with 
demoniac  fury,  and  grinding  his  teeth  and  cursing  in 
the  horrible  German  jargon,  stalked  away.  "  So  be 
it,"  said  the  Prince  of  Cleves,  taking  his  daughter's 
arm — '•  and  here  comes  Snipwitz,  my  barber,  who 
shall  do  the  business  for  you."  With  this  the 
Prince  too  moved  on,  feeling  in  his  heart  not  a  little 
compassion  for  the  lad  ;  for  Adolf  of  Cleves  had 
been  handsome  in  his  youth,  and  distinguished  for 
the  ornament  of  which  he  was  now  depriving  his 
archer. 

Snipwitz  led  the  poor  lad  into  a  side-room,  and 
there — in  a  word — operated  upon  him.  The  golden 
curls — fair  curls  that  his  mother  had  so  often  played 
with ! — fell  under  the  shears  and  round  the  lad's 
knees,  until  he  looked  as  if  he  was  sitting  in  a  bath 
of  sunbeams. 

When  the  frightful  act  had  been  performed,  Otto, 
who  entered  the  little  chamber  in  the  tower,  ringlet- 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RIIIXE.  169 

ed  like  Apollo,  issued  from  it  as  cropped  as  a  charity- 
boy. 

See  how  melancholy  he  looks,  now  that  the  opera- 
tion is  over ! — And  no  wonder.  He  was  thinking 
what  woiild  be  Helena's  opinion  of  him,  now  that  one 
of  his  chief  personal  ornaments  was  gone.  "  Will  she 
know  me?  "  thought  he.  '"will  she  love  me  after  this 
hideous  mutilation?'' 

Yielding  to  these  gloomy  thoughts,  and,  indeed, 
rather  unwilling  to  be  seen  by  his  comrades,  now 
that  he  was  so  disfigured,  the  young  gentleman  had 
hidden  himself  behind  one  of  the  buttresses  of  the 
wall,  a  prey  to  natural  despondency,  when  he  saw 
something  which  instantly  restored  him  to  good 
spirits.  He  saw  the  lovely  Helena  coming  towards 
the  chamber  where  the  odious  barber  had  performed 
upon  him. — coming  forward  timidly,  looking  round 
her  anxiously,  blushing  with  delightful  agitation, — 
and  presently  seeing,  as  she  thought,  the  coast  clear, 
she  entered  the  apartment.  She  stooped  down,  and, 
ah  !  what  was  Otto's  joy  when  he  saw  her  pick  up  a 
beautiful  golden  lock  of  his  hair,  press  it  to  her  lips, 
and  then  hide  it  in  her  bosom  !  Xo  carnation  ever 
blushed  so  redly  as  Helena  did  when  she  came  out 
after  performing  this  feat.  Then  she  hurried  straight- 
way to  her  own  apartments  in  the  castle,  and  Otto, 
whose  first  impulse  was  to  come  out  from  his  hiding- 
place,  and,  falling  at  her  feet,  call  Heaven  and  Earth 


170  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 

to  witness  to  his  passion,  with  difficulty  restrained  his 
feelings,  and  let  her  pass ;  but  the  love-stricken 
young  hero  was  so  delighted  with  this  evident  proof 
of  reciprocated  attachment,  that  all  regret  at  losing 
his  ringlets  at  once  left  him,  and  he  vowed  he  would 
sacrifice  not  only  his  hair,  but  his  head,  if  need  were, 
to  do  her  service. 

That  very  afternoon,  no  small  bustle  and  conver- 
sation took  place  in  the  castle,  on  account  of  the  sud- 
den departure  of  the  Rowsky  of  Eulenschreckenstein, 
with  all  his  train  and  equipage.  He  went  away  in 
the  greatest  wrath,  it  was  said,  after  a  long  and  loud 
conversation  with  the  Prince.  As  that  potentate 
conducted  his  guest  to  the  gate,  walking  rather  de- 
murely and  shamefacedly  by  his  side,  as  he  gathered 
his  attendants  in  the  court,  and  there  mounted  his 
charger,  the  Eowsky  ordered  his  trumpets  to  sound, 
and  scornfully  flung  a  largesse  of  gold  among  the 
servitors  and  men-at-arms  of  the  house  of  Cleves, 
who  were  marshalled  in  the  court.  "  Farewell,  Sir 
Prince,"  said  he  to  his  host :  "  I  quit  you  now  sud- 
denly :  but  remember,  it  is  not  my  last  visit  to  the 
Castle  of  Cleves  ;  "  and,  ordering  his  band  to  play 
"  See  the  Conquering  Hero  comes,"  he  clattered  away 
through  the  drawbridge.  The  Princess  Helena  was 
not  present  at  his  departure  ;  and  the  venerable 
Prince  of  Cleves  looked  rather  moody  and  chap- 
fallen  when  his  guest  left  him.      He  visited  all  the 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    E-HINE.  171 

castle  defences  pretty  accurately  that  night,  and 
inquired  of  his  officers  the  state  of  the  ammunition, 
provision,  &c.  He  said  nothing ;  but  the  Princess 
Helena's  maid  did  :  and  everybody  knew  that  the 
Rowsky  had  made  his  proposals,  had  been  rejected, 
and,  getting  up  in  a  violent  fury,  had  called  for  his 
people,  and  sworn  by  his  great  gods  that  he  would 
not  enter  the  castle  ao;ain  until  he  rode  over  the 
breach,  lance  in  hand,  the  conqueror  of  Cleves  and 
all  belono-ino;  to  it. 

No  little  consternation  was  spread  through  the 
garrison  at  the  news.  For  everybody  knew  the 
Kowsky  to  be  one  of  the  most  intrepid  and  powerful 
soldiers  in  all  Germany, — one  of  the  most  skilful 
generals.  Generous  to  extravagance  to  his  own  fol- 
lowers, he  was  ruthless  to  the  enemy  ;  and  a  hundred 
stories  were  told  of  the  dreadful  barbarities  exercised 
by  him  in  several  towns  and  castles  which  he  had 
captured  and  sacked.  And  poor  Helena  had  the 
pain  of  thinking,  that  in  consequence  of  her  refusal 
she  was  dooming  all  the  men,  women,  and  children 
of  the  principality  to  indiscriminate  and  horrible 
slaughter. 

The  dreadful  surmises  regarding  a  war  received 
in  a  few  days  dreadful  confirmation.  It  was  noon, 
and  the  worthy  Prince  of  Cleves  was  taking  his  din- 
ner (though  the  honest  warrior  had  little  appetite  for 
that  meal  for  some  time  past),  when  trumpets  were 


172  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 


heard  at  the  gate  ;  and  presently  the  herald  of  the 
Eowsky  of  Donnerblitz,  clad  in  a  tabard  on  which 
the  arms  of  the  Count  were  blazoned,  entered  the 
dining-hall.  A  page  bore  a  steel  gauntlet  on  a  cush- 
ion'; Bleu  Sanglier  had  his  hat  on  his  head.  The 
Prince  of  Cleves  put  on  his  own  as  the  herald  came 
up  to  the  chair  of  state  where  t^e  Sovereign  sat. 

"  Silence  for  Bleu  Sanglier,"  cried  the  Prince, 
gravely.     "  Say  your  say,  Sir  Herald." 

"  In  the  name  of  the  high  and  mighty  Rowsky, 
Prince  of  Donnerblitz,  Margrave  of  Eulenschrecken- 
stein,  Count  of  Krotenwald,  Schnauzestadt.  and  Gal- 
genhiigel,  hereditary  Grand  Bootjack  of  the  Holy 
Roman  Empire— to  you,  Adolf  the  Twenty-third, 
Prince  of  Cleves,  I,  Bleu  Sanglier,  bring  war  and 
defiance.  Alone,  and  lance  to  lance,  or  twenty  to 
twenty  in  field  or  in  fort,  on  plain  or  on  mountain, 
the  noble  Rowsky  defies  you.  Here,  or  wherever  he 
shall  meet  you,  he  proclaims  war  to  the  death  between 
you  and  him.  In  token  whereof,  here  is  his  glove." 
And  taking  the  steel  glove  from  the  page.  Bleu  Boar 
flung  it  clanging  on  the  marble  floor. 

The  Princess  Helena  turned  deadly  pale  :  but  the 
Prince  with  a  good  assurance  flung  dow^n  his  own 
glove,  calling  upon  some  one  to  raise  the  Rowsky's  ; 
which  Otto  accordingly  took  up  and  presented  to  him, 
on  his  knee. 

"  Boteler,  fill  my  goblet,"  said  the  Prince  to  that 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHIXE.  173 

functionary,  who,  clothed  in  tight  black  hose  with  a 
white  kerchief,  and  a  napkin  on  his  dexter  arm,  stood 
obsequiously  by  his  master's  chair.  The  goblet  was 
filled  with  Malvoisie  :  it  held  about  three  quarts  :  a 
precious  golden  hanap  carved  by  the  cunning  artificer, 
Benvenuto  the  Florentine. 

"  Drink.  Bleu  Sanglier."  said  the  Prince,  "  and 
put  the  goblet  in  thy  bosom.  Wear  this  chain, 
furthermore,  for  my  sake."  And  so  saying.  Prince 
x\dolf  flung  a  precious  chain  of  emeralds  round  the 
herald's  neck.  "  An  invitation  to  battle  was  ever  a 
welcome  call  to  x\dolf  of  Cleves."  So  saying,  and 
bidding  his  people  take  good  care  of  Bleu  Sanglier's 
retinue,  the  Prince  left  the  hall  with  his  daughter. 
All  were  marvelling  at  his  dignity,  courage,  and 
generosity. 

But,  though  affecting  unconcern,  the  mind  of 
Prince  Adolf  was  far  from  tranquil.  He  was  no 
longer  the  stalwart  knight  who,  in  the  reign  of  Stan- 
islaus Augustus,  had,  with  his  naked  fist,  beaten  a 
lion  to  death  in  three  minutes  :  and  alone  had  kept 
the  postern  of  Peterwaradin  for  two  hours  against 
seven  hundred  Turkish  janissaries,  who  were  assail- 
ing it.  Those  deeds  which  had  made  the  heir  of 
Cleves  famous  were  done  thirty  years  syne.  A  free 
liver  since  he  had  come  into  his  principality,  and  of  a 
lazy  turn,  he  had  neglected  the  athletic  exercises 
which  had  made  him  in  youth  so  famous  a  champion, 


174  A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 

and  indolence  had  borne  its  usual  fruits.  He  tried 
his  old  battle-sword — that  famous  blade  with  which, 
in  Palestine,  he  had  cut  an  elephant-driver  in  two 
pieces,  and  split  asunder  the  skull  of  the  elephant 
which  he  rode.  Adolf  of  Cleves  could  scarcely  now 
lift  the  weapon  over  his  head.  He  tried  his  armour. 
It  was  too  tight  for  him.  And  the  old  soldier  burst 
into  tears,  when  he  found  he  could  not  buckle  it. 
Siic'h  a  man  was  not  iBt  to  encounter  the  terrible 
E-owsky  in  single  combat. 

Nor  could  he  hope  to  make  head  against  him  for 
any  time  in  the  field.  The  Prince's  territories  were 
small  His  vassals  proverbially  lazy  and  peaceable. 
His  treasury  empty.  The  dismallest  prospects  were 
before  him  :  and  he  passed  a  sleepless  night  writing 
to  his  friends  for  succour,  and  calculating  with  his 
secretary  the  small  amount  of  the  resources  which  he 
could  bring  to  aid  him  against  his  advancing  and 
powerful  enemy. 

Helena's  pillow  that  evening  was  also  un visited 
by  slumber.  She  lay  awake  thinking  of  Otto — think- 
ing of  the  danger  and  the  ruin  her  refusal  to  marry 
had  brought  upon  her  dear  Papa.  Otto,  too,  slept 
not :  but  his  waking  thoughts  were  brilliant  and 
heroic ;  the  noble  Childe  thought  how  he  should 
defend  the  Princess,  and  win  los  and  honour  in  the 
ensuing  combat ! 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  175 


CHAPTER  XII. 


THE       CHAMPION 


And  now  the  noble  Cleves  began  in  good  earnest 
to  prepare  his  castle  for  the  threatened  siege.  He 
gathered  in  all  the  available  cattle  round  the  property, 
and  the  pigs  round  many  miles  ;  and  a  dreadful 
slaughter  of  horned  and  snouted  animals  took  place, 
— the  whole  castle  resounding  with  the  lowing  of  the 
oxen  and  the  squeaks  of  the  gruntlings,  destined  to 
provide  food  for  the  garrison.  These,  when  slain, 
(her  gentle  spirit,  of  course,  would  not  allow  of  her 
witnessing  that  disagreeable  operation.)  the  lovely 
Helena,  with  the  assistance  of  her  maidens,  carefully 
salted  and  pickled.  Corn  was  brought  in  in  great 
quantities,  the  Prince  paying  for  the  same  when  he 
had  money,  giving  bills  when  he  could  get  credit,  or 
occasionally,  marry,  sending  out  a  few  stout  men-at- 
arms  to  forage,  who  brought  in  wheat  without  money 
or  credit  either.  The  charming  Princess,  amidst  the 
intervals  of  her  labours,  went  about  encouraging  the 
garrison,  who  vowed  to  a  man  they  would  die  for  a 
single  sweet  smile  of  hers  :  and  in  order  to  make 
their  inevitable  sufferings  as  easy  as  possible  to  the 
gallant  fellows,  she  and  the  apothecaries  got  ready  a 


176  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 

plenty  of  efficacious  simples,  and  scraped  a  vast  quan- 
tity of  lint  to  bind  their  warriors'  wounds  withal. 
All  the  fortifications  were  strengthened ;  the  fosses 
carefully  filled  with  spikes  and  water  ;  large  stones 
placed  over  the  gates,  convenient  to  tumble  on  the 
heads  of  the  assaulting  parties  ;  and  cauldrons  pre- 
pared, with  furnaces  to  melt  up  pitch,  brimstone, 
boiling  oil,  &c.,  wherewith  hospitably  to  receive  them. 
Having  the  keenest  eye  in  the  whole  garrison,  young 
Otto  was  placed  on  the  topmost  tower,  to  watch  for 
the  expected  coming  of  the  beleaguering  host. 

They  were  seen  only  too  soon.  Long  ranks  of 
shining  spears  were  seen  glittering  in  the  distance, 
and  the  army  of  the  Rowsky  soon  made  its  appear- 
ance in  battle's  magnificently  stern  array.  The  tents 
of  the  renowned  Chief  and  his  numerous  warriors 
were  pitched  out  of  arrow-shot  of  the  castle,  but  in 
fearful  proximity  ;  and  when  his  army  had  taken  up 
its  position,  an  officer  with  a  flag  of  truce  and  a 
trumpet  was  seen  advancing  to  the  castle-gate.  It 
was  the  same  herald  who  had  previously  borne  "  his 
master's "  defiance  to  the  Prince  of  Cleves.  He 
came  once  more  to  the  castle-gate,  and  there  pro- 
claimed that  the  noble  Count  of  Eulenschreckenstein 
was  in  arms  without,  ready  to  do  battle  with  the 
Prince  of  Cleves,  or  his  champion ;  that  he  would 
remain  in  arms  for  three  days,  ready  for  combat. 
If  no  man  met  him,  at  the  end  of  that  period  he 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  177 

would  deliver  an  assault,  and  would  give  quarter  to 
no  single  soul  in  the  garrison.  So  saying,  the  herald 
nailed  his  lord's  gauntlet  on  the  castle-gate.  As 
before,  the  Prince  flung  him  over  another  glove  from 
the  wall ;  though  how  he  was  to  defend  himself  from 
such  a  warrior,  or  get  a  champion,  or  resist  the 
pitiless  assault  that  must  follow,  the  troubled  old 
nobleman  knew  not  in  the  least. 

The  Princess  Helen  passed  the  night  in  the 
Chapel,  vowing  tons  of  wax-candles  to  all  the  patron 
saints  of  the  House  of  Cleves,  if  they  would  raise 
her  up  a  defender. 

But  how  did  the  noble  girl's  heart  sink — how 
were  her  notions  of  the  purity  of  man  shaken  within 
her  gentle  bosom,  by  the  dread  intelligence  which 
reached  her  the  next  morning  after  the  defiance  of 
the  Rawsky.  At  roll-call  it  was  discovered  that  he 
on  whom  she  principally  relied — he  whom  her  fond 
heart  had  singled  out  as  her  champion,  had  proved 
faithless !  Otto,  the  degenerate  Otto,  had  fled ! 
His  comrade,  Wolfgang,  had  gone  with  him. — A  rope 
was  found  dangling  from  the  casement  of  their  cham- 
ber, and  they  must  have  swum  the  moat  and  passed 
over  to  the  enemy  in  the  darkness  of  the  previous 
night.  "  A  pretty  lad  was  this  fair  spoken  archer  of 
thine  !  "  said  the  Prince  her  father  to  her  ;  '*  and  a 
pretty  kettle  of  fish  hast  thou  cooked  for  the  fondest 


178  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 

of  fathers."  She  retired  weeping  to  her  apartment. 
Never  before  had  that  young  heart  felt  so  wretched. 

That  morning,  at  nine  o'clock,  as  they  were  going 
to  breakfast,  the  Kowsky's  trumpets  sounded.  Clad 
in  complete  armour,  and  mounted  on  his  enormous 
piebald  charger,  he  came  out  of  his  pavilion,  and 
rode  slowly  up  and  down  in  front  of  the  Castle.  He 
was  ready  there  to  meet  a  champion. 

Three  times  each  day  did  the  odious  trumpet  sound 
the  same  notes  of  defiance.  Thrice  daily  did  the  steel- 
clad  Rowsky  come  forth  challenging  the  combat. 
The  first  day  passed,  and  there  was  no  answer  to  his 
summons.  The  second  day  came  and  went,  but  no 
champion  had  risen  to  defend.  The  taunt  of  his 
shrill  clarion  remained  without  answer  ;  and  the  sun 
went  down  upon  the  wretchedest  father  and  daughter 
in  all  the  land  of  Christendom. 

The  trumpets  sounded  an  hour  after  sunrise,  an 
hour  after  noon,  and  an  hour  before  sunset.  The 
third  day  came,  but  with  it  brought  no  hope.  The 
first  and  second  summons  met  no  response.  At  five 
o'clock  the  old  Prince  called  his  daughter  and  blessed 
her.  "  I  go  to  meet  this  Rowsky,"  said  he.  '"  It 
may  be,  we  shall  meet  no  more,  my  Helen — my  child 
— the  innocent  cause  of  all  this  grief.  If  I  shall  fall 
to  night  the  Rowsky's  victim,  'twill  be  that  life  is 
nothing  without  honour."  And  so  saying,  he  put  in- 
to her  hands  a  dagger,  and  bade  her  sheathe  it  in  her 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  179 

own  breast  so  soon  as  the  terrible  champion  had  car- 
ried the  Castle  by  storm. 

This  Helen  most  faithfully  promised  to  do  ;  and 
her  aged  father  retired  to  his  armoury,  and  donned 
his  ancient  war-worn  corslet.  It  had  borne  the  shock 
of  a  thousand  lances  ere  this,  but  it  was  now  so  tight 
as  almost  to  choke  the  knightly  wearer. 

The  last  trumpet  sounded — tantara  !  tantara  ! — 
its  shrill  call  rang  over  the  wide  plains,  and  the  wide 
plains  gave  back  no  answer.  Again  ! — but  when  its 
notes  died  away,  there  was  only  a  mournful,  an  awful 
silence.  "  Farewell,  my  child,"  said  the  Prince,  bul- 
kily  lifting  himself  into  his  battle-saddle.  "  Remem- 
ber the  dagger.  Hark  !  the  trumpet  sounds  for  the 
third  time.  Open,  warders !  Sound,  trumpeters ! 
And  good  Saint  Benedict,  guard  the  right." 

But  Puffendorf,  the  trumpeter,  had  not  leisure 
to  lift  the  trumpet  to  his  lips :  when,  hark  !  from  with- 
out there  came  another  note  of  another  clarion  ! — a 
distant  note  at  first,  then  swelling  fuller.  Presently 
in  brilliant  variations,  the  full  rich  notes  of  the 
"  Huntsman's  Chorus"  came  clearly  over  the  breeze ; 
and  a  thousand  voices  of  the  crowd  gazing  over  the 
gate,  exclaimed — "  A  champion  !  a  champion  !  " 

And,  indeed,  a  champion  had  come.  Issuing 
from  the  forest  came  a  knight  and  squire  :  the  knight 
gracefully  cantering  an  elegant  cream-coloured  Ara- 
bian of  prodigious  power — the  squire  mounted  on  an 


180  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 


unpretending  grey  cob,  which  nevertheless  was  an 
animal  of  considerable  strength  and  sinew.  It  was 
the  squire  who  blew  the  trumpet  through  the  bars  of 
his  helmet  ;  the  knight's  visor  was  completely  down. 
A  small  prince's  coronet  of  gold,  from  which  rose 
three  pink  ostrich  feathers,  marked  the  warrior's 
rank ;  his  blank  shield  bore  no  cognizance.  As 
gracefully  poising  his  lance  he  rode  into  the  green 
space  where  the  Rowsky's  tents  were  pitched,  the 
hearts  of  all  present  beat  with  anxiety,  and  the  poor 
Prince  of  Cleves,  especially,  had  considerable  doubts 
about  his  new  champion.  "  So  slim  a  figure  as  that 
can  never  compete  with  Donnerblitz,"  said  he  moodi- 
ly, to  his  daughter  ;  "  but  whoever  he  be,  the  fellow 
puts  a  good  face  on  it,  and  rides  like  a  man.  See,  he 
has  touched  the  Rowsky's  shield  with  the  point  of  his 
lance  !     By  Saint  Bendigo,  a  perilous  venture  ! " 

The  unknown  knight  had  indeed  defied  the  Bow- 
sky  to  the  death,  as  the  Prince  of  Cleves  remarked 
from  the  battlement  where  he  and  his  daughter  stood 
to  witness  the  combat ;  and  so,  having  defied  his  ene- 
my, the  Incognito  galloped  round  under  the  Castle 
wall,  bowirg  elegantly  to  the  lovely  Princess  there, 
and  then  took  his  ground  and  waited  for  the  foe. 
His  armour  blazed  in  the  sunshine  as  he  sat  there, 
motionless  on  his  cream-coloured  steed.  He  looked 
like  one  of  those  fairy  knights  one  has  read  of — one 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  181 

of  those  celestial  champions  who  decided  so  many 
victories  before  the  invention  of  gunpowder. 

The  Rowsky's  horse  was  speedily  brought  to  the 
door  of  his  pavilion  ;  and  that  redoubted  warrior, 
blazing  in  a  suit  of  magnificent  brass  armour,  clatter- 
ed into  his  saddle.  Long  waves  of  blood-red  feathers 
bristled  over  his  helmet,  which  was  farther  ornament- 
ed by  two  huge  horns  of  the  Aurochs.  His  Jance 
was  painted  white  and  red,  and  he  whirled  the  prodi- 
gious beam  in  the  air  and  caught  it  with  savage  glee. 
He  laughed  when  he  saw  the  slim  form  of  his  antag- 
onist ;  and  his  soul  rejoiced  to  meet  the  coming  bat- 
tle. He  dug  his  spurs  into  the  enormous  horse  he 
rode.  The  enormous  horse  snorted,  and  squealed, 
too.  with  fierce  pleasure.  He  jerked  and  curvetted 
him  with  a  brutal  playfulness,  and  after  a  few  min- 
utes' turning  and  wheeling,  during  which  everybody 
had  the  leisure  to  admire  the  perfection  of  his  equita- 
tion, he  cantered  round  to  a  point  exactly  opposite 
his  enemy,  and  pulled  up  his  eager  charger. 

The  old  Prince  on  the  battlement  was  so  eager 
for  the  combat,  that  he  seemed  quite  to  forget  the 
langer  which  menaced  himself,  should  his  slim  cham- 
pion be  discomfited  by  the  tremendous  knight  of  Don- 
nerblitz.  "Go  it  ! "  said  he,  flinging  his  truncheon 
into  the  ditch ;  and  at  the  word,  the  two  warriors 
rushed  with  whirring  rapidity  at  each  other. 

And  now  ensued  a  combat  so  terrible,  that  a  weak  fe- 


182  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 

male  hand,  like  that  of  her  who  pens  this  tale  of 
chivalry,  can  never  hope  to  do  justice  to  the  terrific 
theme.  You  have  seen  two  engines  on  the  Great 
Western  Line  rush  past  each  other  with  a  pealing 
scream  7  So  rapidly  did  the  two  warriors  gallop  to- 
wards one  another,  the  feathers  of  either  streamed 
yards  behind  their  backs  as  they  converged.  Their 
shock  as  they  met  was  that  of  two  cannon-balls  ;  the 
mighty  horses  trembled  and  reeled  with  the  concus- 
sion ;  the  lance  aimed  at  the  Rowsky's  helmet  bore 
off  the  coronet,  the  horns,  the  helmet  itself,  and  hurl- 
ed them  to  an  incredible  distance :  a  piece  of  the 
Rowsky's  left  ear  was  carried  off  on  the  point  of  the 
nameless  warrior's  weapon.  How  had  he  fared  ? 
His  adversary's  weapon  had  glanced  harmless  along 
the  blank  surface  of  his  polished  buckler  ;  and  the 
victory  so  far  was  with  him. 

The  expression  of  the  E-owsky's  face,  as,  bare- 
headed, he  glared  on  his  enemy  with  fierce  blood- 
shot eyeballs,  was  one  worthy  of  a  demon.  The  im- 
precatory expressions  which  he  made  use  of  can  never 
be  copied  by  a  feminine  pen. 

His  opponent  magnanimously  declined  to  take 
advantage  of  the  opportunity  thus  offered  him  of 
finishing  the  combat,  by  splitting  his  opponent's  skull 
with  his  curtal-axe,  and,  riding  back  to  his  starting- 
place,  bent  his  lance's  point  to  the  ground,  in  token 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE.  183 

that  he  would  wait  until  the  Count  of  Eulenschrecken- 
stein  was  helmeted  afresh. 

'•  Blessed  Bendigo  !  "  cried  the  Prince,  '•  thou  art 
a  gallant  lance  ;  but  why  didst  not  rap  the  schelm's 
brain  out  ?  " 

"  Bring  me  a  fresh  helmet !"  jelled  the  Rowskj. 
Another  casque  was  brought  to  him  by  his  trembling 
squire. 

As  soon  as  he  had  braced  it,  he  drew  his  great 
flashing  sword  from  his  side,  and  rushed  at  his  enemy, 
roaring  hoarsely  his  cry  of  battle.  The  unknown 
knight's  sword  was  unsheathed  in  a  moment,  and  at 
the  next  the  two  blades  were  clanking  together  the 
dreadful  music  of  the  combat ! 

The  Donnerblitz  wielded  his  with  his  usual  savage- 
aess  and  activity.  It  whirled  round  his  adversary's 
head  with  frightful  rapidity.  Now  it  carried  away  a 
feather  of  his  plume ;  now  it  shore  off  a  leaf  of  his 
coronet.  The  flail  of  the  thrasher  does  not  fall  more 
swiftly  upon  the  corn.  For  many  minutes  it  was  the 
Unknown's  only  task  to  defend  himself  from  the 
tremendous  activity  of  the  enemy. 

But  even  the  Rowsky's  strength  would  slacken 
after  exertion.  The  blows  began  to  fall  less  thick 
anon,  and  the  point  of  the  unknown  knight  began  to 
make  dreadful  play.  It  found  and  penetrated  every 
joint  of  the  Donnerblitz's  armour.  Now  it  nicked 
him  in  the  shoulder,  where  the  vambrace  was  buckled 


184  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 

to  the  corslet ;  now  it  bored  a  shrewd  hole  under  the 
light  brassart,  and  blood  followed  ;  now.  with  fatal 
dexterity,  it  darted  through  the  vizor,  and  came  back 
to  the  recover  deeply  tinged  with  blood.  A  scream 
of  rage  followed  the  last  thrust ;  and  no  wonder  ; — it 
had  penetrated  the  Rowsky's  left  eye. 

His  blood  was  trickling  through  a  dozen  orifices  ; 
he  was  almost  choking  in  his  helmet  with  loss  of 
breath,  and  loss  of  blood,  and- rage.  Gasping  with 
fury,  he  drew  back  his  horse,  flung  his  great  sword  at 
his  opponent's  head,  and  once  more  plunged  at  him, 
wielding  his  curtal-axe. 

Then  you  should  have  seen  the  unknown  knight 
employing  the  same  dreadful  weapon  !  Hitherto  he 
had  been  on  his  defence  ;  now  he  began  the  attack ; 
and  the  gleaming  axe  whirred  in  his  hand  like  a  reed, 
but  descended  like  a  thunderbolt !  "  Yield  !  yield  ! 
Sir  Rowsky,"  shouted  he,  in  a  calm,  clear  voice. 

A  blow  dealt  madly  at  his  head  was  the  reply. 
'Twas  the  last  blow  that  the  Count  of  Eulenschrec- 
kenstein  ever  struck  in  battle  !  The  curse  was  on 
his  lips  as  the  crashing  steel  descended  into  his  brain, 
and  split  it  in  two.  He  rolled  like  a  log  from  his 
horse  ;  and  his  enemy's  knee  was  in  a  moment  on  his 
chest,  and  the  dagger  of  mercy  at  his  throat,  as  the 
knight  once  more  called  upon  him  to  yield. 

But  there  was  no  answer  from  within  the  helmet. 
When  it  was  withdrawn,  the  teeth  were  crunched  to* 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  18a 

gether :  the  mouth  that  should  have  spoken,  grinned 
a  ghastly  silence  :  one  eye  still  glared  with  hate  and 
fury,  but  it  was  glazed  with  the  film  of  death  ! 

The  red  orb  of  the  sun  was  just  then  dipping  into 
the  Rhine.  The  unknown  knight,  vaulting  once  more 
nto  his  saddle,  made  a  graceful  obeisance  to  the 
Prince  of  Cleves  and  his  daughter,  without  a  word, 
and  galloped  back  into  the  forest,  whence  he  had 
issued  an  hour  before  sunset." 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

The  consternation  which  ensued  on  the  death  of 
the  Rowsky,  speedily  sent  all  his  camp-followers, 
army,  &c.,  to  the  right-about.  They  struck  their 
tents  at  the  first  news  of  his  discomfiture :  and  each 
man  laying  hold  of  what  he  could,  the  whole  of  the 
gallant  force  which  had  marched  under  his  banner  in 
the  morning  had  disappeared  ere  the  sun  rose. 

On  that  night,  as  it  may  be  imagined,  the  gates 
of  the  Castle  of  Cleves  were  not  shut.  Everybody 
vas  free  to  come  in.  "Wine-butts  were  broached  in 
all  the  courts  ;  the  pickled  meat  prepared  in  such  lots 
for  the  siege  was  distributed  among  the  people,  who 
crowded  to  congratulate  their  beloved  Sovereign  on 
his  victory :   and  the  Prince,  as   was  customary  with 


186  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 

tliat  good  man,  who  never  lost  an  opportunity  of  giv- 
ing a  dinner-party,  had  a  splendid  entertainment 
made  ready  for  the  upper  classes,  the  whole  conclud- 
ing with  a  tasteful  display  of  fireworks. 

In  the  midst  of  these  entertainments,  our  old 
friend  the  Count  of  Hombourg  arrived  at  the  Castle. 
The  stalwart  old  warrior  swore  by  Saint  Bugo  that 
he  was  grieved  the  killing  of  the  Rowsky  had  been 
taken  out  of  his  hand.  The  laughing  Cleves  vowed 
by  Saint  Bendigo.  Hombourg  could  never  have  finish- 
ed off  his  enemy  so  satisfactorily  as  the  unknown 
knight  had  just  done. 

But  who  was  he  ?  was  the  question  which  now 
agitated  the  bosom  of  these  two  old  nobles.  How  to 
find  him — how  to  reward  the  champion  and  restorer 
of  the  honour  and  happiness  of  Cleves?  They  agreed 
over  supper  that  he  should  be  sought  for  everywhere. 
Beadles  were  sent  round  the  principal  cities  within 
fifty  miles,  and  the  description  of  the  knight  advertis- 
ed in  the  Journal  de  Francfort  and  the  AUgemeine 
Zeitung.  The  hand  of  the  Princess  Helena  was  so- 
lemnly offered  to  him  in  these  advertisements,  with 
the  reversion  of  the  Prince  of  Cleves's  splendid  though 
somewhat  dilapidated  property. 

"  But  we  don't  know  him,  my  dear  papa,"  faintly 
ejaculated  that  young  lady.  "  Some  impostor  may 
come  in  a  suit  of  plain  armour,  and  pretend  that  he 
was  the  champion  who  overcame  the  Rowsky  (a  Prince 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  187 


who  had  his  faults  certainly,  but  whose  attachment 
for  me  I  can  never  forget ;  and  how  are  you  to  say 
whether  he  is  the  real  knight  or  not  ?  There  are  so 
many  deceivers  in  this  world."  added  the  Princess  in 
tears,  "  that  one  can't  be  too  cautious  now."  The 
fact  is,  that  she  was  thinking  of  the  desertion  of  Otto 
in  the  morning,  by  which  instance  of  faithlessness  her 
heart  was  well-nigh  broken. 

As  for  that  youth  and  his  comrade  Wolfgang,  to 
the  astonishment  of  everybody  at  their  impudence, 
they  came  to  the  archers'  mess  that  night,  as  if  no- 
thing had  happened  :  got  their  supper,  partaking  both 
of  meat  and  drink  most  plentifully  ;  fell  asleep  when 
their  comrades  began  to  describe  the  events  of  the 
day,  and  the  admirable  achievements  of  the  unknown 
warrior ;  and,  turning  into  their  hammocks,  did  not 
appear  on  parade  in  the  morning  until  twenty  minutes 
after  the  names  were  called. 

When  the  Prince  of  Cleves  heard  of  the  return 
of  these  deserters  he  was  in  a  towering  passion. 
"  Where  were  you,  fellows,"  shouted  he,  "  during  the 
time  my  Castle  was  at  its  utmost  need  ?" 

Otto  replied,  "  We  were  out  on  particular  busi- 
ness." 

"  Does  a  soldier  leave  his  post  on  the  day  of  battle. 
Sir  ?  "  exclaimed  the  Prince.  "  You  know  the  reward 
of  such — Death  !  and  death  you  merit.  But  you  are 
a  soldier   only  of  yesterday,  and  yesterday's  victory 


188  A   LEGEND    OP    THE    RHINE. 


has  made  me  merciful.  Hanged  you  shall  not  be,  as 
you  merit — only  flogged,  both  of  you.  Parade  the 
men,  Colonel  Tickelstern,  after  breakfast,  and  give 
these  scoundrels  five  hundred  a  piece." 

You  should  have  seen  how  young  Otto  bounded, 
when  the  information  was  thus  abruptly  conveyed  to 
him.     "  Flog  wie,"  cried  he.     "  Flog  Otto,  of — ." 

"  Not  so,  my  father,"  said  the  Princess  Helena, 
who  had  been  standing  by  during  the  conversation, 
and  who  had  looked  at  Otto  all  the  while  with  the 
most  ineffable  scorn.  '"  Not  so,  although  these  persons 
have  forgotten  their  duty,"  (she  laid  a  particularly 
sarcastic  emphasis  on  the  word  persons,)  "  we  have 
had  no  need  of  their  service,  and  have  luckily  found 
others  more  faithful.  You  promised  your  daughter  a 
boon,  papa  ;  it  is  the  pardon  of  these  two  yersons. 
Let  them  go,  and  quit  a  service  they  have  disgraced ; 
a  mistress — that  is,  a  master — they  have  deceived." 

"  Drum  'em  out  of  the  Castle,  Tickelstern  ;  strip 
their  uniforms  from  their  backs,  and  never  let  me  hear 
of  the  scoundrels  again."  So  saying,  the  old  Prince 
angrily  turned  on  his  heel  to  breakfast,  leaving  the 
two  young  men  to  the  fun  and  derision  of  their  sur- 
rounding comrades. 

The  noble  Count  of  Hombourg,  who  was  taking 
his  usual  airing  on  the  ramparts  before  breakfast, 
came  up  at  this  juncture,  and  asked  what  was  the  row  % 
Otto  blushed  when  he  saw  him,  and  turned  away  ra- 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  189 

pidly  ;  but  the  Count,  too,  catching  a  glimpse  of  him, 
with  a  hundred  exclamations  of  joj^ful  surprise  seized 
upon  the  lad,  hugged  him  to  his  manly  breast,  kissed 
him  most  affectionately,  and  almost  burst  into  tears 
as  he  embraced  him.  For,  in  sooth,  the  good  Count 
had  thought  his  godson  long  ere  this  at  the  bottom 
of  the  silver  Rhine. 

The  Prince  of  Cleves,  who  had  come  to  the  break- 
fast parlour  window  (to  invite  his  guest  to  enter,  as 
the  tea  was  made),  beheld  this  strange  scene  from  the 
window,  as  did  the  lovely  tea-maker  likewise,  with 
breathless  and  beautiful  agitation.  The  old  Count 
and  the  archer  strolled  up  and  down  the  battlements 
in  deep  conversation.  By  the  gestures  of  surprise 
and  delight  exhibited  by  the  former,  'twas  easy  to 
see  the  young  archer  was  conveying  some  very  strange 
and  pleasing  news  to  him,  though  the  nature  of  the 
conversation  was  not  allowed  to  transpire. 

"  A  godson  of  mine,"  said  the  noble  Count,  when 
interrogated  over  his  muffins.  '•  I  know  his  family  ; 
worthy  people  ;  sad  scapegrace  :  run  away  :  parents 
longing  for  him  ;  glad  you  did  not  flog  him  ;  devil  to 
pay,  and  so  forth."  The  Count  was  a  man  of  few 
words,  and  told  his  tale  in  this  brief,  artless  manner. 
But  why,  at  its  conclusion,  did  the  gentle  Helena 
leave  the  room,  her  eyes  filled  with  tears  ?  She  left 
the  room  once  more  to  kiss  a  certain  lock  of  yellow 


190  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 


hair  she  had  pilfered.     A  dazzling,  delicious  thought, 
a  strange  wild  hope,  arose  in  her  soul  ! 

When  she  appeared  again,  she  made  some  side- 
handed  inquiries  regarding  Otto  (with  that  gentle 
artifice  oft  employed  by  women) :  bat  he  was  gone. 
He  and  his  companion  were  gone.  The  Count  of 
Hombourg  had  likewise  taken  his  departure,  under 
pretext  of  particular  business.  How  lonely  the  vast 
castle  seemed  te  Helena,  now  that  he  was  no  longer 
there.  The  transactions  of  the  last  few  days  ;  the 
beautiful  archer-boy  ;  the  offer  from  the  Rowsky 
(always  an  eyent  in  a  young  lady's  life) ;  the  siege 
of  the  castle  ;  the  death  of  her  truculent  admirer  ; 
all  seemed  like  a  fevered  dream  to  her  ;  all  was 
passed  away,  and  had  left  no  trace  behind.  No 
trace  ?  yes  !  one  ;  a  little  insignificant  lock  of  golden 
hair  over  which  the  young  creature  wept  so  much 
that  she  put  it  out  of  curl :  passing  hours  and  hours 
in  the  summer-house,  where  the  operation  had  been 
performed. 

On  the  second  day  (it  is  my  belief  she  would  have 
gone  into  a  consumption  and  died  of  languor,  if  the 
event  had  been  delayed  a  day  longer)  a  messenger, 
with  a  trumpet,  brought  a  letter  in  haste  to  the 
Prince  of  Cleves,  who  was,  as  usual,  taking  refresh- 
ment. "  To  the  High  and  Mighty  Prince,"  &c.,  the 
letter  ran.  "  The  Champion  who  had  the  honour  of 
engaging  on  Wednesday  last  with  his  late  Excellency 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  191 

the  Rowsky  of  Donnerblitz  presents  his  compliments 
to  H.S.H.  the  Prince  of  Cleves.  Through  the  me- 
dium of  the  public  prints  the  C.  has  been  made 
acquainted  with  the  flattering  proposal  of  His  Serene 
Highness  relative  to  a  union  between  himself  (the 
Champion)  and  Her  Serene  Highness  the  Princess 
Helena  of  Cleves.  The  Champion  accepts  with 
pleasure  that  polite  invitation,  and  will  ha\;e  the 
honour  of  waiting  upon  the  Prince  and  Princess  of 
Cleves  about  half  an  hour  after  the  receipt  of  this 
letter." 

••  Tol  lol  de  rol.  girl,"  shouted  the  Prince  with 
heartfelt  joy.  (Have  you  not  remarked,  dear  friend, 
how  often  in  novel  books,  and  on  the  stage,  joy  is 
announced  by  the  above  burst  of  insensate  mono- 
syllables ?)  "  Tol  lol  de  rol.  Don  thy  best  kirtle, 
child  ;  thy  husband  will  be  here  anon."  And  Helena 
retired  to  arrange  her  toilet  for  this  awful  event  in 
the  life  of  a  young  woman.  When  she  returned, 
attired  to  welcome  her  defender,  her  .young  cheek 
was  as  pale  as  the  white  satin  slip  and  orange  sprigs 
she  wore. 

She  was  scarce  seated  on  the  dais  by  her  father's 
side,  when  a  huge  flourish  of  trumpets  from  without 
proclaimed  the  arrival  of  the  Champio7i.  Helena 
felt  cjuite  sick  :  a  draught  of  ether  was  necessary  to 
restore  her  tranquillity. 

The  great  door  was  flung  open.     He  entered,— 


192  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHI  v  :  . 

the  same  tall  warrior,  slim,  and  beautiful,  blazing  in 
shining  steel.  He  approached  the  Prince's  throne, 
supported  on  each  side  by  a  friend  likewise  in 
armour.     He  knelt  gracefully  on  one  knee. 

"  I  come,"  said  he,  in  a  voice  trembling  with 
emotion,  "  to  claim,  as  per  advertisement,  the  hand 
of  the  lovely  Lady  Helena  ;  "  and  he  held  out  a  copy 
of  the  Allgemeine  Zeitung.  as  he  spoke. 

"  Art  thou  noble.  Sir  Knight?  "  asked  the  Prince 
of  Cleves. 

"  As  noble  as  yourself,"  answered  the  kneeling 
steel. 

"  Who  answers  for  thee  ?  " 

"  I,  Carl,  Margrave  of  Godesberg,  his  father  ! " 
said  the  knight  on  the  right  hand,  lifting  up  his 
visor. 

"  And  I — Ludwig,  Count  of  Hombourg,  his  god- 
father ! "  said  the  knight  on  the  left  doing  likewise. 

The  kneeling  knight  lifted  up  his  visor  now,  and 
looked  on  Helena. 

"  I  knew  it  was^  said  she,  and  fainted  as  she  saw 
Otto,  the  archer. 

But  she  was  soon  brought  to,  gentles,  as  I  have 
small  need  to  tell  ye.  In  a  very  few  days  after,  a 
great  marriage  took  place  at  Cleves,  under  the  pat- 
ronage of  Saint  Bugo,  Saint  Buffo,  and  Saint  Ben- 
digo.  After  the  marriage  ceremony,  the  happiest  and 
handsomest  pair  in  the  world  drove  off  in  a  chaise- 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  193 


and-four,  to  pass  the  honej-moon  at  Kissicgen.  The 
Lady  Theodora,  'whom  we  left  locked  up  in  her  con- 
vent a  long  while  since,  was  prevailed  to  come  back 
to  Godesberg,  where  she  was  reconciled  to  her  hus- 
band. Jealous  of  her  daughter-in-law,  she  idolized 
her  son,  and  spoiled  all  her  little  grandchildren.  And 
so  all  are  happy,  and  my  simple  tale  is  done. 

I  read  it  in  an  old — old  book,  in  a  mouldy  old 
circulating  library.  'Twas  written  in  the  French 
tongue,  by  the  noble  Alexandre  Dumas.  Marquis  de 
la  Pailleterie  ;  but  'tis  probable  that  he  stole  it  from 
some  other,  and  that  the  other  had  filched  it  from  a 
former  tale-teller.  For  nothing  is  new  under  the  sun. 
Things  die  and  are  reproduced  only.  And  so  it  is 
that  the  forgotten  tale  of  the  great  Dumas  reappears 
under  the  signature  of 

Whistlebixkie,  X.  B.,  December  1. 

Theresa  Mac  Whirteii. 


REBECCA  AXD  ROWEXA. 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 


CHAPTER  L 

THE  OVERTUE.E. COMMEXCEMENT  OF  THE  BUSINESS. 

Well-beloved  novel  readers  and  gentle  patron- 
esses of  romance,  assuredly  it  has  often  occurred  to 
every  one  of  you,  that  the  books  we  delight  in  have 
very  unsatisfactory  conclusions,  and  end  quite  prema- 
turely with  page  320  of  the  third  volume.  At  that 
epoch  of  the  history  it  is  well  known  that  the  hero  is 
seldom  more  than  thirty  years  old,  and  the  heroine 
by  consequence  some  seven  or  eight  years  younger ; 
and  I  would  ask  any  of  you  whether  it  is  fair  to  sup- 
pose that  people  after  the  above  age  have  nothing 
worthy  of  note  in  their  lives,  and  cease  to  exist 
as  they  drive  away  from  Saint  George's,  Hanover 
Square?  You,  dear  young  ladies,  who  get  your 
knowledge  of  life  from  the  circulating  library,  may 
be  led  to  imagine  that  when  the  marriage  business  is 


198  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 

done,  and  Emilia  is  whisked  off  in  the  new  travelling 
carriage,  by  the  side  of  the  enraptured  Earl ;  or 
Belinda,  breaking  away  from  the  tearful  embraces  of 
her  excellent  mother,  dries  her  own  lovely  e3'es  upon 
the  throbbing  waistcoat  of  her  bridegroom — you  may 
be  apt,  I  say,  to  suppose  that  all  is  over  then,  that 
Emilia  and  the  Earl  are  going  to  be  happy  for  the 
rest  of  their  lives  in  his  Lordship's  romantic  castle 
in  the  north,  and  Belinda  and  her  young  clergyman 
to  enjoy  uninterrujDted  bliss  in  their  rose-trellised 
parsonage  in  the  west  of  England  :  but  some  there  be 
among  the  novel  reading  classes — old  experienced 
folks — who  know  better  than  this.  Some  there  be 
who  have  been  married,  and  found  that  they  have 
still  something  to  see  and  to  do  and  to  suffer  may- 
hap ;  and  that  adventures,  and  pains,  and  pleasures, 
and  taxes,  and  sunrises  and  settings,  and  the  business 
and  joys  and  griefs  of  life  go  on  after  as  before  the 
nuptial  ceremony. 

Therefore  I  say,  it  is  an  unfair  advantage,  which 
the  novelist  takes  of  hero  and  heroine,  as  of  his  inex- 
perienced reader,  to  say  good  bye  to  the  two  former, 
as  sooTi  as  ever  they  are  made  husband  and  wife  ;  and 
have  often  wished  that  additions  should  be  made  to 
all  works  of  fiction,  which  have  been  brought  to 
abrupt  terminations  in  the  manner  described ;  and 
that  we  should  hear  what  occurs  to  the  sober  mar- 
ried man,  as  well  ^s   to   the   ardent  bachelor :  to  the 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA,  199 

matron,  as  well  as  to  the  blushing  spinster.  And  in 
this  respect  I  admire  (and  -would  desire  to  imitate) 
the  noble  and  prolific  French  author,  Alexandre 
Dumas,  Marquis  Davy  de  la  Pailleterie,  who  carries 
his  heroes  from  early  youth  down  to  the  most  venera- 
ble old  age  ;  and  does  not  let  them  rest,  until  they 
are  so  old,  that  it  is  full  time  the  poor  fellows  should 
get  a  little  peace  and  quiet.  A  hero  is  much  too 
valuable  a  gentleman  to  be  put  upon  the  retired  list, 
in  the  prime  and  vigour  of  his  youth  ;  and  I  wish  to 
know,  what  lady  among  us  would  like  to  be  put  on 
the  shelf,  and  thought  no  longer  interesting,  because 
she  has  a  family  growing  up,  and  is  four  or  five  and 
thirty  years  of  age  ?  I  have  known  ladies  at  sixty, 
with  hearts  as  tender,  and  ideas  as  romantic,  as  any 
young  misses'  of  sixteen.  Let  us  have  middle-aged 
novels  then,  as  well  as  your  extremely  juvenile 
legends :  let  the  young  ones  be  warned,  that  the 
old  folks  have  a  right  to  be  interesting :  and  that  a 
lady  may  continue  to  have  a  heart,  although  she  is 
somewhat  stouter  than  she  was  when  a  school  girl, 
and  a  man  his  feelings,  although  he  gets  his  hair 
from  Truefitt's. 

Thus  I  would  desire  that  the  biographies  of 
many  of  our  most  illustrious  personages  of  romance 
should  be  continued  by  fitting  hands,  and  that  they 
should  be  heard  of,  until  at  least  a  decent  age. — 
Look  at  Mr.   James's  heroes  ;    they  invariably  marry 


200  REBECCA    AND    KOWENA, 

young,  Look  at  Mr.  Dickens's,  they  disappear  from 
the  scene  when  they  are  mere  chits.  I  trust  these 
authors,  who  are  still  alive,  will  see  the  propriety  of 
telling  us  something  more  about  people,  in  whom  we 
took  a  considerable  interest,  and  who  must  be  at  pre- 
sent, strong  and  hearty,  in  the  full  vigour  of  health 
and  intellect.  And  in  the  tales  of  the  great  Sir 
Walter,  (may  honour  be  to  his  name.)  I  am  sure 
there  are  a  number  of  people  who  are  untimely  car- 
ried away  from  us  ;  and  of  whom  we  ought  to  hear 
more. 

My  dear  Kebecca.  daughter  of  Isaac  of  York,  has 
always,  in  my  mind,  been  one  of  these  ;  nor  can  I  ever 
believe  that  such  a  woman,  so  admirable,  so  tender, 
so  heroic,  so  beautiful,  could  disappear  altogether  be- 
fore such  another  woman  as  Kowena,  that  vapid, 
flaxen-headed  creature,  who  is,  in  my  humble  opinion, 
unworthy  of  Ivanhoe,  and  unworthy  of  her  place  as 
heroine.  Had  both  of  them  got  their  rights,  it  ever 
seemed  to  me  that  Rebecca  would  have  had  the  hus- 
band, and  E-owena  would  have  gone  off  to  a  convent  and 
shut  herself  up,  where  I,  for  one,  would  never  have 
taken  the  trouble  of  inquiring  for  her. 

But  after  all  she  married  Ivanhoe.  What  is  to 
be  done  ?  There  is  no  help  for  it.  There  it  is  in 
black  and  white  at  the  end  of  the  third  volume 
of  Sir  Walter  Scott's  chronicle,  that  the  couple  were 
joined  together  in  matrimony.     And  must  the  Disin- 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  201 


herited  Knight,  whose  blood  has  been  fired  by  the  suns 
of  Palestine,  and  whose  heart  has  been  warmed  in 
the  company  of  the  tender  and  beautiful  Rebecca,  sit 
down  contented  for  life  by  the  side  of  such  a  frigid 
piece  of  propriety  as  that  icy.  faultless,  prim,  niminy- 
piminy  Rowena  ?     Forbid  it  fate,  forbid  it  poeticul 
justice  !       There  is  a  simple  plan  for  setting  matters 
right,  and  g-ivin^f  all  parties  their  due.  which  is  here 
submitted    to    the    novel-reader.     Ivanhoe's    history 
must  have  had  a  continuation  ;  and  it  is  this,  which 
ensues.      I  may  be  wrong  in  some  particulars  of  the 
narrative, — as  what  writer  will  not  be  ? — but  of  the 
main  incidents  of  the  history.  I  have  in  my  own  mind 
no  sort  of  doubt,  and  confidentl}-  submit  them  to  that 
generous   public  which   likes  to  see    virtue  righted, 
true  love  rewarded,  and  the  brilliant  Fairy  descend 
out  of  the  blazing  chariot  at  the  end  of  the  panto- 
mime, and  make  Harlequin  and  Columbine  happy. 
What,  if  reality  be  not  so,  gentlemen   and  ladies : 
and  if,  after  dancing  a  variety  of  jigs  and  antics,  and 
jumping  in  and  out  of  endless  trap-doors  and  windows 
through  life's  shifting  scenes,  no  fairy  comes  down  to 
make  us  comfortable  at  the  close  of  the  performance  % 
Ah  !    let  us  give  our  honest  novel-folks  the  benefit  of 
their  position,  and  not  be  envious  of  their  good  luck. 
No  person  who  has  read  the  preceding  volumes  of 
this  history,  as  the  famous  chronicler  of  Abbotsford 
has  recorded  them,  can  doubt  for  a  moment   what 
9* 


202  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 

was  the  result  of  tlie  marriage  between  Sir  Wilfrid 
of  Ivanhoe  and  the  Lady  Rowena.  Those  who  have 
marked  her  conduct  during  her  maidenhood,  her 
distinguished  politeness,  her  spotless  modesty  of  de- 
meanour, her  unalterable  coolness  under  all  circum- 
stances, and  her  lofty  and  gentlewoman-like  bearing, 
must  be  sure  that  her  married  conduct  would  equal 
her  spinster  behaviour,  and  that  Rowena  the  wife 
would  be  a  pattern  of  correctness  for  all  the  matrons 
of  England, 

Such  was  the  fact.  For  miles  around  Rotherwood 
her  character  for  piety  was  known.  Her  castle  was 
a  rendezvous  for  all  the  clergy  and  monks  of  the 
district,  whom  she  fed  with  the  richest  viands,  while 
she  pinched  herself  upon  pulse  and  water.  There 
was  not  an  invalid  in  the  three  Ridings.  Saxon  or  Nor- 
man, but  the  palfrey  of  the  Lady  Rowena  might  be 
seen  journeying  to  his  door,  in  company  with  Father 
Glauber  her  almoner,  and  Brother  Thomas  of  Epsom, 
her  leech.  She  lighted  up  all  the  churches  in  York- 
shire with  wax-candles,  the  offerings  of  her  piety. 
The  bells  of  her  chapel  began  to  ring  at  two  o'clock 
in  the  morning ;  and  all  the  domestics  of  Rotherwood 
were  called  upon  to  attend  at  matins,  at  complins,  at 
nones,  at  vespers,  and  at  sermon.  I  need  not  say 
that  fasting  was  observed  with  all  the  rigours  of  the 
Church  ;  and  that  those  of  the  servants  of  the  Lady 
Rowena  were  looked  upon  with  most  favour  whoso 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  203 

hair  shirts  were  the  roughest,  and  who  flagellated  them- 
selves with  the  most  becoming  perseverance. 

Whether  it  was  that  this  discipline  cleared  poor 
Wamba's  wits  or  cooled  his  humour,  it  is  certain  that 
he  became  the  most  melancholy  fool  in  England,  and 
if  ever  he  ventured  upon  a  pun  to  the  shuddering, 
poor  servitors,  who  were  mumbling  their  dry  crusts 
below  the  salt,  it  was  such  a  faint  and  stale  joke, 
that  nobody  dared  laugh  at  the  inuendoes  of  the 
unfortunate  wag,  and  a  sickly  smile  was  the  best  ap- 
plause he  could  muster.  Once,  indeed,  when  Guffo, 
the  goose-boy  (a  halfwitted,  poor  wretch)  laughed 
outright  at  a  lamentably  stale "  pun  which  Wamba 
palmed  upon  him  at  supper  time,  (it  was  dark,  and 
the  torches  being  brought  in,  Wamba  said.  "  Gruffo, 
they  can't  see  their  way  in  the  argument,  and  are 
going  to  throw  a  little  light  upon  the  subject^'^)  the 
Lady  Rowena,  being  disturbed  in  theological  contro- 
versy with  Father  Willibald  (afterwards  canonised 
as  St.  Willibald,  of  Bareacres,  hermit  and  confessor) 
called  out  to  know  what  was  the  cause  of  the  unseem- 
ly interruption,  and  Guffo  and  Wamba  being  pointed 
out  as  the  culprits,  ordered  them  straightway  into 
the  court-yard,  and  three  dozen  to  be  administered 
to  each  of  them. 

"  I  got  you  out  of  Front-de-Boeuf  s  castle,"  said 
poor  Wamba,  piteously,  appealing  to  Sir  Wilfrid  of 


204  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 

Ivanhoe,  *'  and  canst  thou  not  save  me  from  the 
lash?" 

"  Yes,  from  Front-de-Boeuf's  castle,  where  you 
were  locked  up  with  the  Jewess  in  the  toiver  V  said 
Rowena,  haughtily  replying  to  the  timid  appeal  of 
her  husband ;  "  Gurth,  give  him  four  dozen  !  " 

And  this  was  all  poor  Wamba  got  by  applying  for 
the  mediation  of  his  master. 

In  fact,  Rowena  knew  her  own  dignity  so  well  as 
a  princess  of  the  royal  blood  of  England,  that  Sir 
Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe,  her  consort,  could  scarcely  call 
his  life  his  own,  and  was  made,  in  all  things,  to  feel 
the  inferiority  of  his  station.  And  which  of  us  is 
there,  acquainted  with  the  sex,  that  has  not  remarked 
this  propensity  in  lovely  woman,  and  how  often  the 
wisest  in  the  council  are  made  to  be  as  fools  at  her 
board,  and  the  boldest  in  the  battle-field  are  craven 
when  facing  her  distaff? 

"  Where  you  were  locked  up  with  the  Jeivess  in 
the  tower !!''  was  a  remark,  too,  of  which  Wilfrid  keen- 
ly felt,  and,  perhaps,  the  reader  will  understand,  the 
significancy.  When  the  daughter  of  Isaac  of  York 
brought  her  diamonds  and  rubies — the  poor,  gentle 
victim ! — and,  meekly  laying  them  at  the  feet  of  the 
conquering  Rowena,  departed  into  foreign  lands  to 
tend  the  sick  of  her  people,  and  to  brood  over  the 
bootless  passion  which  consumed  her  own  pure  heart. 
one  would  have  thought  that  the  heart  of  the  royal 


REBECCA    A^■D    ROWENA.  205 

lady  would  have  melted  before  such  beauty  and  hu- 
mility, and  that  she  would  have  been  generous  in  the 
moment  of  her  victory. 

But  did  you  ever  know  a  right-minded  woman 
pardon  another  for  being  handsome  and  more  love- 
worthy than  herself?  The  Lady  Eowena  did  cer- 
tainly say.  with  mighty  magnanimity,  to  the  Jewish 
maiden,  "  Come  and  live  with  me  as  a  sister,"  as  the 
former  part  of  this  history  shows  ;  but  Rebecca  knew 
in  her  heart  that  her  ladyship's  proposition  was  what 
is  called  ho&li  (in  that  noble  Eastern  language  with 
which  Wilfred  the  Crusader  was  familiar),  or  fudge, 
in  plain  Saxon ;  and  retired,  with  a  broken,  gentle 
spirit,  neither  able  to  bear  the  sight  of  her  rival's 
happiness,  nor  willing  to  disturb  it  by  the  contrast 
of  her  own  wretchedness.  Rowena,  like  the  most 
high-bred  and  virtuous  of  women,  never  forgave 
Isaac's  daughter  her  beauty,  nor  her  flirtation  with 
Wilfred  (as  the  Saxon  lady  chose  to  term  it),  nor, 
above  all,  her  admirable  diamonds  and  jewels, 
although  Eowena  was  actually  in  possession  of 
them. 

In  a  word,  she  was  always  flinging  Rebecca  into 
Ivanhoe's  teeth.  There  was  not  a  day  in  his  life 
but  that  unhappy  .warrior  was  made  to  remember 
that  a  Hebrew  damsel  had  been  in  love  with  him, 
and  that  a  Christian  lady  of  fashion  could  never  for- 
give the  insult.     For  instance,  if  G-urth,  the  swine- 


206  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 

herd,  who  was  now  promoted  to  be  a  gamekeeper 
and  verderer,  brought  the  account  of  a  famous  wild- 
boar  in  the  wood,  and  proposed  a  hunt,  Kowena 
would  say.  *•  Do,  Sir  Wilfred,  persecute  those  poor 
pigs — you  know  your  friends,  the  Jews,  can't  abide 
them  !  "  Or  when,  as  it  oft  would  happen,  our  lion- 
hearted  monarch,  Richard,  in  order  to  get  a  loan  or 
a  benevolence  from  the  Jews,  would  roast  a  few  of 
the  Hebrew  capitalists,  or  extract  some  of  the  princi- 
pal rabbi's  teeth,  Rowena  would  exult  and  say, 
"  Serve  them  right,  the  misbelieving  wretches  !  Eng- 
land can  never  be  a  happy  country  until  every  one  of 
these  monsters  is  exterminated  !  "  Or  else,  adopting 
a  strain  of  still  more  savage  sarcasm,  would  exclaim, 
"  Ivanhoe,  my  dear,  more  persecution  for  the  Jews ! 
Hadn't  you  better  interfere,  my  love?  His  majesty 
will  do  anything  for  you;  and,  you  know,  the  Jews 
were  always  such  favourites  of  yours^^^  or  words  to 
that  effect.  But,  nevertheless,  her  ladyship  never 
lost  an  opportunity  of  wearing  Rebecca's  jewels  at 
court,  whenever  the  queen  held  a  drawing-room ;  or 
at  the  York  assizes  and  ball,  when  she  appeared 
there,  not  of  course  because  she  took  any  interest 
in  such  things,  but  because  she  considered  it  her 
duty  to  attend  as  one  of  the  chief  ladies  of  the 
county. 

Thus  Sir  Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe,  having   attained 
the  height  of  his  wishes,  was,  like  many  a  man  when 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  207 


he  has  reached  that  dangerous  elevation,  disap- 
pointed. Ah,  dear  friends,  it  is  but  too  often  so  in 
life  !  Many  a  garden,  seen  from  a  distance,  looks 
fresh  and  green,  "which,  when  beheld  closely,  is  dis- 
mal and  weedy :  the  shady  walks  melancholy  and 
grass  grown :  the  bowers  you  would  fain  repose  in, 
cushioned  with  stinging  nettles.  I  have  ridden  in  a 
caique  upon  the  waters  of  the  Bosphorus,  and  looked 
upon  the  capital  of  the  Soldan  of  Turkey.  As  seen 
from  those  blue  waters,  with  palace  and  pinnacle, 
with  gilded  dome  and  towering  cypress,  it  seemeth  a 
very  Paradise  of  Mahound  :  but,  enter  the  city,  and 
it  is  but  a  beggarly  labyrinth  of  ricketty  huts  and 
dirty  alleys,  where  the  ways  are  steep  and  the  smells 
are  foul,  tenanted  by  mangy  dogs  and  ragged  beg- 
gars— a  dismal  illusion  !  Life  is  such,  ah,  well-a-day  ! 
It  is  only  hope  which  is  real,  and  reality  is  a  bitter- 
ness and  a  deceit. 

Perhaps  a  man  with  Ivanhoe's  high  principles 
would  never  bring  himself  to  acknowledge  this  fact ; 
but  others  did  for  him.  He  grew  thin,  and  pined 
away  as  much  as  if  he  had  been  in  a  fever  under  the 
scorching  sun  of  Ascalon.  He  had  no  a23petite  for 
his  meals :  he  slept  ill,  though  he  was  yawning  all 
day.  The  jangling  of  the  doctors  and  friars  whom 
Rowena  brought  together  did  not  in  the  least  enliven 
him,  and  he  would  sometimes  give  proofs  of  somno- 
lency during  their  disputes,  greatly  to  the  consterna- 


208  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 


tion  of  bis  lad)-.  He  himted  a  good  deal,  and,  I  very 
much  fear,  as  Rowena  rightly  remarked,  that  he 
might  have  an  excuse  for  being  absent  from  home. 
He  began  to  like  wine,  too,  who  had  been  as  sober 
as  a  hermit ;  and  when  he  came  back  from  Athel- 
etane's  (whither  he  would  repair  not  unfrequently), 
the  unsteadiness  of  his  gait,  and  the  unnatural  bril- 
liancy of  his  eye.  were  remarked  by  his  lady,  who, 
you  may  be  sure,  was  sitting  up  for  him.  As  for 
Athelstane,  he  swore  by  St.  WuUstan  that  he  was 
glad  to  have  escaped  a  marriage  with  such  a  pattern 
of  propriety  :  and  honest  Cedric  the  Saxon  (who  had 
been  very  speedily  driven  out  of  his  daughter-in-law's 
castle),  vowed  by  St.  Waltheof  that  his  son  had 
bought  a  dear  bargain. 

So  Sir  Wilfred  of  Ivanhoe  became  almost  as 
tired  of  England  as  his  royal  master,  Richard,  was, 
(who  always  quitted  the  country  when  he  had 
squeezed  from  his  loyal  nobles,  commons,  clergy,  and 
Jews,  all  the  money  which  he  could  get) ;  and  when 
the  lion-hearted  Prince  began  to  make  war  against 
the  French  king,  in  Normandy  and  Guienne,  Sir 
Wilfrid  pined  like  a  true  servant  to  be  in  company 
of  the  good  champion,  alongside  of  whom  he  had 
shivered  so  many  lances,  and  dealt  such  woundy 
blows  of  sword  and  battle-axe  on  the  plains  of  Jaflfa, 
or  the  breaches  of  Acre.  Travellers  were  welcome 
at  Rotherwood  that  brought  news  from  the  camp  of 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  209 

the  good  king :  and  I  warrant  me  that  the  knight 
listened  with  all  his  might  when  Father  Drono,  the 
chaplain,  read  in  the  St.  James's  Chronykyll  (which 
was  the  paper  of  news  he  of  Ivanhoe  took  in),  of 
"  another  glorious  triumph." — '■'  Defeat  of  the  French 
near  Blois." — "  Splendid  victory  at  Epte,  and  narrow 
escape  of  the  French  king,"  the  which  deeds  of  arms 
the  learned  scribes  had  to  narrate. 

However  such  tales  might  excite  him  during  the 
reading,  they  left  the  knight  of  Ivanhoe  only  the 
more  melancholy  after  listening :  and  the  more 
moody  as  he  sat  in  his  great  hall  silently  draining 
his  Gascony  wine.  Silently  sat  he  and  looked  at  his 
coats  of  mail,  hanging  vacant  on  the  wall,  his  banner 
covered  with  spider-webs,  and  his  sword  and  axe 
rusting  there.  "  Ah,  dear  axe,"  sighed  he  (into  his 
drinking-horn),  "  ah,  gentle  steel !  that  was  a  merry 
time  when  I  sent  thee  crashing  into  the  pate  of  th& 
Emir  Abdul  Melik,  as  he  rode  on  the  right  of  Sala- 
din.  Ah.  my  sword,  my  dainty  headsman,  my  sweet 
split-rib,  my  razor  of  infidel  beards ;  is  the  rust  to 
eat  thine  edge  off,  and  am  I  never  more  to  wield 
thee  in  battle  1  What  is  the  use  of  a  shield  on  a 
wall,  or  a  lance  that  has  a  cobweb  for  a  pen 
non?  0,  Richard,  my  good  king,  would  I  could 
hear  once  more  thy  voice  in  the  front  of  the  onset ! 
Bones  of  Brian  the  Templar,  would  ye  could  rise 


210  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 


from  -your  grave  at  Templestowe,  and  that  we  might 
break  another  spear  for  honour  and — and  "  *  *  * 

And  Rebecca^  he  would  have  said — but  the  knight 
paused  here  in  rather  a  guilty  panic  ;  and  her  Royal 
Highness  the  Princess  Rowena  (as  she  chose  to  style 
herself  at  home)  looked  so  hard  at  him  out  of  her 
China  blue  eyes,  that  Sir  Wilfrid  felt  as  if  she  was 
reading  his  thoughts,  and  was  fain  to  drop  his  own 
eyes  into  his  flagon. 

In  a  word,  his  life  was  intolerable.  The  dinner 
hour  of  the  twelfth  century,  it  is  known,  was  very 
early :  in  fact,  people  dined  at  ten  o'clock  in  the 
morning :  and  after  dinner;  Rowena  sat  mum  under 
her  canopy,  embroidered  with  the  arms  of  Edward 
the  Confessor,  working  with  her  maidens  at  the  most 
hideous  pieces  of  tapestry,  representing  the  tortures 
and  martyrdoms  of  her  favourite  saints,  and  not  al- 
lowing a  soul  to  speak  above  his  breath,  except  when 
she  chose  to  cry  out  in  her  own  shrill  voice  when  a 
handmaid  made  a  wrong  stitch,  or  let  fall  a  ball  of 
worsted.  It  was  a  dreary  life — Wamba,  we  have 
said,  never  ventured  to  crack  a  joke,  save  in  a  whis- 
per, when  he  was  ten  miles  from  home  ;  and  then 
Sir  Wilfrid  Ivanhoe  was  too  weary  and  blue-devilled 
to  laugh  :  but  hunted  in  silence,  moodily  bringing 
down  deer  and  wild-boar  with  shaft  and  quarrel. 

Then    he   besought   Robin   of   Huntingdon,   the 
jolly  outlaw,   nathless,  to  join  him,  and  go  to  the 


REBECCA    AND    ROWEXA.  211 

help  of  their  fair  sire  King  B.ichard.  -with  a  score  or 
two  of  lances.  But  the  Earl  of  Huntingdon  was  a 
very  different  character  from  Robin  Hood  the  fores- 
ter. There  was  no  more  conscientious  magistrate  in 
all  the  county  than  his  lordship  :  he  was  never  known 
to  miss  church  or  quarter  sessions  :  he  was  the  strict- 
est game-proprietor  in  all  the  Riding,  and  sent  scores 
of  poachers  to  Botany  Bay.  *"  A  man  who  has  a 
stake  in  the  country,  my  good  Sir  Wilfrid.''  Lord 
Huntingdon  said,  with  rather  a  patronising  air  (his 
lordship  had  grown  immensely  fat  since  the  king  had 
taken  him  into  grace,  and  required  a  horse  as  strong 
as  an  elephant  to  mount  him).  "  a  man  with  a  stake 
in  the  country  ought  to  stay  in  the  country.  Pro- 
perty has  its  duties  as  well  as  its  privileges,  and  a 
person  of  my  rank  is  bound  to  live  on  the  land  from 
which  he  gets  his  living." 

"Amen!"  sang  out  the  Reverend — Tuck,  his 
lordship's  domestic  chaplain,  who  had  also  grown  as 
sleek  as  the  Abbot  of  Jorvaulx,  who  was  as  prim  as 
a  lady  in  his  dress,  wore  bergamot  in  his  handker- 
chief, and  had  his  poll  shaved,  and  his  beard  curled 
every  day.  And  so  sanctified  was  his  Reverence 
grown,  that  he  thought  it  was  a  shame  to  kill  the 
pretty  deer  (though  he  ate  of  them  still  hugely,  both 
in  pasties  and  with  French  beans  and  currant  jelly), 
and"  being  shown  a  quarter-staff  upon  a  certain  occa- 


212  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 


sion,  handled  it  curiously,  and  asked  "  what  that  ugly 
great  stick  was  ?  " 

Lady  Huntingdon,  late  Maid  Marian,  had  still 
some  of  her  old  fun  and  spirits,  and  poor  Ivanhoe 
begged  and  prayed  that  she  would  come  and  stay  at 
Rotherwood  occasionally,  and  egayer  the  general  dul- 
ness  of  that  castle.  But  her  ladyship  said  that  Kow- 
ena  gave  herself  such  airs,  and  bored  her  so  intolera- 
bly with  stories  of  king  Edward  the  Confessor,  that 
she  preferred  any  place  rather  than  Kotherwood, 
which  was  as  dull  as  if  it  had  been  at  the  top  of 
Mount   Athos. 

The  only  person  who  visited  it  was  Athelstane. 
"  His  Royal  Highness  the  Prince,"  Rowena  of  course 
called  him,  whom  the  lady  received  with  royal  honours. 
She  had  the  guns  fired,  and  the  footmen  turned  out 
with  presented  arms  when  he  arrived  ;  helped  him  to 
all  the  favourite  cuts  of  the  mutton  or  the  turkey, 
and  forced  her  poor  husband  to  light  him  to  the  state 
bed-room,  walking  backwards,  holding  a  pair  of  wax- 
candles.  At  this  hour  of  bed  time  the  Thane  used 
to  be  in  such  a  condition,  that  he  saw  two  pair  of 
candles  and  a  couple  of  Ivanhoes  reeling  before  him — 
let  us  hope  it  was  not  Ivanhoe  that  was  reeling,  but 
only  his  kinsman's  brains  muddled  with  the  quantities 
of  drink  which  it  was  his  daily  custom  to  consume. 
Rowena  said  it  was  the  crack  which  the  wicked  Bois 
Gruilbert,  "  the    Jewess's   other   lover.    Wilfrid,   my 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  213 

dear,"  gave  him  on  his  royal  skull,  which  caused  the 
Prince  to  he  disturbed  so  easily  :  but  added,  that 
drinking  became  a  person  of  royal  blood,  and  was  but 
one  of  the  duties  of  his  station. 

Sir  "Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe  saw  it  would  be  of  no 
avail  to  ask  this  man  to  bear  him  company  on  his 
projected  tour  abroad  :  but  still  he  himself  was  every 
day  more  and  more  bent  upon  going,  and  he  long  cast 
about  for  some  means  of  breaking  to  his  Kowena  his 
firm  resolution  to  join  the  King.  He  thought  she 
would  certainly  fall  ill  if  he  communicated  the  news 
too  abruptly  to  her ;  he  would  pretend  a  journey  to 
York  to  attend  a  grand  jury  :  then  a  call  to  London 
on  law  business  or  to  buy  stock:  then  he  would  slip 
over  to  Calais  by  the  packet  by  degrees,  as  it  were  : 
and  so  be  with  the  King  before  his  wife  knew  that  he 
was  out  of  sight  of  Westminster  Hall. 

"  Suppose  your  honour  says  you  are  going,  as  your 
honour  would  say  Bo  to  a  goose,  plump,  short,  and  to 
the  point,"  said  Wamba,  the  jester,  who  was  Sir 
Wilfrid's  chief  counsellor  and  attendant,  ■'  depend 
on't  her  highness  would  bear  the  news  like  a  Christian 
woman." 

'•  Tush,  malapert !  I  will  give  thee  the  strap,"  said 
Sir  Wilfrid,  in  a  fine  tone  of  high  tragedy  indigna- 
tion :  ••  thou  knowest  not  the  delicacy  of  the  nerves 
of  highborn  ladies.  An  she  faint  not,  write  me 
down  Hollander." 


214  REEECCA    AND    ROWENA. 


"  I  will  wager  mj  bauble  against  an  Irish  billet 
of  exchange  that  she  will  let  your  honour  go  off  readi- 
ly: that  is,  if  you  press  not  the  matter  too  strongly," 
Wamba  answered  knowingly  ;  and  this  Ivanhoe  found 
to  his  discomfiture:  for  one  morning  at  breakfast, 
adopting  a  degage  air,  as  he  sipped  his  tea,  he  said, 
'•  My  love,  I  was  thinking  of  going  over  to  pay  his 
Majesty  a  visit  in  Normandy  :"  upon  which  laying 
down  her  muffin,  (which,  since  the  Royal  Alfred 
baked  those  cakes,  had  been  the  chosen  breakfast  cake 
of  noble  Anglo  Saxons,  and  which  a  kneeling  page 
tendered  to  her  on  a  salver,  chased  by  the  Florentine 
Benvenuto  Cellini.) — "  When  do  you  think  of  going, 
Wilfrid,  my  dear?  " — the  lady  said,  and  the  moment 
the  tea  things  were  removed,  and  the  tables  and  their 
trestles  put  away,  she  set  about  mending  his  linen, 
and  getting  ready  his  carpet-bag. 

So  Sir  Wilfrid  was  as  disgusted  at  her  readiness 
to  part  with  him  as  he  had  been  weary  of  staying  at 
home,  which  caused  Wamba,  the  fool,  to  say,  "  Mar- 
ry, Gossip,  thou  art  like  the  man  on  ship-board,  who, 
when  the  boatswain  flogged  him,  did  cry  out,  '  0,' 
wherever  the  rope's  end  fell  on  him  :  which  caused 
Master  Boatswain  to  say,  '  Plague  on  thea,  fellow,  and 
a  pize  on  thee,  knave,  wherever  I  hit  thee  there  is  no 
pleasing  thee.'  " 

"  And  truly  there  are  some  backs  which  Fortune 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  215 

is  always  belabouring."  thought  Sir  Wilfrid,  with  a 
groan,  "•and  mine  is  one  that  is  ever  sore."' 

So.  with  a  moderate  retinue,  whereof  the  knave 
Wamba  made  one,  and  a  large  woollen  comforter 
round  his  neck,  which  his  wife's  own  white  fingers 
had  woven.  Sir  Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe  left  home  to  join 
the  King,  his  master.  Rowena  standing  on  the 
steps,  poured  out  a  series  of  prayers  and  blessings, 
most  edifying  to  hear,  as  her  lord  mounted  his 
charger,  which  his  squires  led  to  the  door.  "  It  was 
the  duty  of  the  British  female  of  rank,"  she  said,  ••  to 
siiflFer  all,  all  in  the  cause  of  her  Sovereign.  She 
would  not  fear  loneliness  during  the  campaign  :  she 
would  bear  up  against  widowhood,  desertion,  and  an 
unprotected  situation." 

"  My  cousin  Athelstane  will  protect  thee,"  said 
Ivanhoe.  with  profound  emotion,  as  the  tears  trickled 
down  his  basnet ;  and  bestowing  a  chaste  .salute  upon 
the  steel-clad  warrior,  Rowena  modestly  said,  ••  She 
hoped  his  highness  would  be  so  kind." 

Then  Ivanhoe's  trumpet  blew :  then  Rowena  wav- 
ed her  pocket  handkerchief;  then  the  household  gave 
a  shout :  then  the  pursuivant  of  the  good  knight.  Sir 
Wilfrid  the  Crusader,  flung  out  his  banner  (which  was 
argent  a  gules  cramoisy  with  three  Moors  impaled 
sable)  :  then  Wamba  gave  a  lash  on  his  mule's 
haunch,  and  Ivanhoe,  heaving  a  great  sigh,  turned 
the  tail  of  his  war-horse  upon  the  castle  of  his  fathers. 


216  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 

As  they  rode  along  the  forest,  they  met  Athel- 
stane,  the  Thane,  powdering  along  the  road  in  the  di- 
rection of  Rotherwoood  on  his  great  dray-horse  of  a 
charger.  "  Good-bye,  good  luck  to  you,  old  brick," 
cried  the  Prince,  using  the  vernacular  Saxon  ;  "  pitch 
into  those  Frenchmen  ;  give  it  'em  over  the  face  and 
eyes ;  and  I'll  stop  at  home,  and  take  care  of  Mrs. 
I." 

"  Thank  you,  kinsman,"  said  Ivanhoe,  looking, 
however,  not  particularly  well  pleased  ;  and  the  chiefs 
shaking  hands,  the  train  of  each  took  its  different 
way — Athelstane's  to  Rotherwood,  Ivanhoe's  towards 
his  place  of  embarkation. 

The  poor  knight  had  his  wish,  and  yet  his  face 
was  a  yard  long,  and  as  yellow  as  a  lawyer's  parch- 
ment ;  and  having  longed  to  quit  home  any  time  these 
three  years  past,  he  found  himself  envying  Athelstane, 
because,  forsooth,  he  was  going  to  Rotherwood  :  which 
symptoms  of  discontent  being  observed  by  the  witless 
Wamba,  caused  that  absurd  madman  to  bring  his  re- 
beck over  his  shoulder  from  his  back,  and  to  sing — 

ATRA    CURA. 

Before  I  lost  my  five  poor  wits, 

I  mind  me  of  a  Romish  clerk, 

Who  sang  how  Care,  the  phantom  dark, 

Beside  the  belted  horseman  sits, 

Methought  I  saw  the  giiesly  sprite 

Jump  up  but  now  behind  my  Knight. 


REBECCA    AND    ROW'F.XA.  217 

"  Perhaps  thou  didst,  knave."  said  Ivanhoe,  look- 
ing over  his  shoulder ;  and  the  knave  went  on  with 
his  jingle. 

And  thoii2:h  he  gallop  as  he  may, 
I  mark  that  cursed  monster  black 
Still  sits  behind  his  honour's  back, 
Tight  squeezing  of  his  heart  alwaj. 
Like  two  black  Templars  sit  they  there, 
Beside  one  crupper.  Knight  and  Care. 

No  knight  am  I  with  pennoned  spear, 
To  prance  upon  a  bold  destrere: 
I  will  not  have  black  Care  prevail 
Upon  my  long- eared  charger's  tail, 
For  lo,  I  am  a  witless  fool, 
And  laugh  at  Grief,  and  ride  a  mule. 

And  his  bells  rattled  as  he  kicked  his  mule's  sides. 

"  Silence,  fool !  "  said  Sir  "Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe,  in 
a  voice  both  majestic  and  wrathful.  '■'•  If  thou  know- 
est  not  care  and  grief,  it  is  because  thou  knowest  not 
love,  whereof  they  are  the  companions.  Who  can 
love  without  an  anxious  heart  ?  How  shall  there  be 
joy  at  meeting,  without  tears  at  parting?"  (I  did 
not  see  that  his  honour  or  my  lady  shed  many  anon, 
thought  Wamba  the  fool,  but  he  was  only  a  zany,  and 
his  mind  was  not  right.)  "  I  would  not  exchange  my 
very  sorrows  for  thine  indifference,"  the  knight  con- 
tinued. "Where  there  is  a  sun  there  must  be  a 
10 


218  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 

shadow.  If  the  shadow  offend  me,  shall  I  put  out 
my  eyes  and  live  in  the  dark  ?  No  !  I  am  content 
with  my  fate,  even  such  as  it  is.  The  Care  of  which 
thou  speakest,  hard  though  it  may  vex  him,  never  yet 
rode  down  an  honest  man.  I  can  bear  him  on  my 
shoulders,  and  make  my  way  through  the  world's 
press  in  spite  of  him  ;  for  my  arm  is  strong,  and  my 
sword  is  keen,  and  my  shield  has  no  stain  on  it ;  and 
my  heart,  though  it  is  sad,  knows  no  guile."  And 
here,  taking  a  locket  out  of  his  waistcoat  (which  was 
made  of  chain-mail),  the  knight  kissed  the  token,  put 
it  back  under  the  waistcoat  again,  heaved  a  profound 
sigh,  and  stuck  spurs  into  his  horse. 

As  for  Wamba,  he  was  munching  a  black  pudding 
whilst  Sir  Wilfrid  was  making  the  above  speech 
(which  implied  some  secret  grief  on  the  knight's  part, 
that  must  have  been  perfectly  unintelligible  to  the 
fool),  and  so  did  not  listen  to  a  single  word  of  Ivan- 
hoe's  pompous  remarks.  They  travelled  on  by  slow 
stages  through  the  whole  kingdom,  until  they  came 
to  Dover,  whence  they  took  shipping  for  Calais.  And 
in  this  little  voyage,  being  exceedingly  sea-sick,  and 
besides  elated  at  the  thought  of  meeting  his  Sovereign, 
the  good  knight  cast  away  that  profound  melancholy 
which  had  accompanied  him  during  the  whole  of  his 
land  journey. 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA  219 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  LAST  DAYS  OF  THE  LIOX, 

From  Calais  Sir  Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoetook  the  dili- 
gence across  country  to  Limoges,  sending  on  Gurth, 
his  squire,  with  the  horses  and  the  rest  of  his  attend- 
ants, with  the  exception  of  "Wamba,  who  travelled 
not  only  as  the  knight's  fool  but  as  his  valet,  and  who, 
perched  on  the  roof  of  the  carriage,  amused  himself 
by  blowing  tunes  upon  the  condiicteur'' s  French  horn. 
The  good  King  Richard  was.  as  Ivanhoe  learned,  in 
the  Limousin,  encamped  before  a  little  place  called 
Chains,  the  lord  whereof,  though  a  vassal  of  the  King's, 
was  holding  the  castle  against  his  Sovereign  with  a 
resolution  and  valour,  which  caused  a  great  fury  and 
annoyance  on  the  part  of  the  Monarch  with  the  Lion 
Heart.  For  brave  and  magnanimous  as  he  was.  the 
Lion-hearted  one  did  not  love  to  be  baulked  any  more 
than  another ;  and,  like  the  royal  animal  whom  he 
was  said  to  resemble,  he  commonly  tore  his  adversary 
to  pieces,  and  then,  perchance,  had  leisure  to  think 
how  brave  the  latter  had  been.  The  Count  of  Chains 
had  found,  it  was  said,  a  pot  of  money ;  the  royal 
Richard  wanted  it.  As  the  Count  denied  that  he 
had  it,  why  did  he  not  open  the  gates  of  his  castle  at 


220  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 


once  ?  It  was  a  clear  proof  that  he  was  guilty  ;  and 
the  King  was  determined  to  punish  this  rebel,  and 
have  his  money  and  his  life  too. 

He  had  naturally  brought  no  breaching  guns  with 
him,  because  those  instruments  were  not  yet  invented  ; 
and  though  he  had  assaulted  the  place  a  score  of  times 
with  the  utmost  fury,  his  Majesty  had  been  beaten 
back  on  every  occasion,  until  he  was  so  savage  that  it 
was  dangerous  to  approach  the  British  Lion.  The 
Lion's  wife,  the  lovely  Berengaria,  scarcely  ventured 
to  come  near  him.  He  flung  the  joint  stools  in  his 
tent  at  the  heads  of  the  officers  of  state,  and  kicked 
his  aides-de-camp  round  his  pavilion ;  and,  in  fact,  a 
maid  of  honour,  who  brought  a  sack-posset  into  his 
Majesty  from  the  Queen,  after  he  came  in  from  the 
assault,  came  spinning  like  a  foot-ball  out  of  the  royal 
tent  just  as  Ivanhoe  entered  it. 

"  Send  me  my  Austrian  drum-major  to  flog  that 
woman,"  roared  out  the  infuriate  King.  "  By  the 
bones  of  St.  Barnabas  she  has  burned  the  sack  !  By 
St.  Wittikind,  I  will  have  her  flayed  alive.  Ha  !  St. 
George,  Ha !  St.  Richard,  whom  have  we  here  1 "  And 
ho  lifted  up  his  demi-culverin,  or  curtal  axe,  a  weapon 
weighing  about  thirteen  hundred  weight,  and  was 
about  to  fling  it  at  the  intruder's  head,  when  the  lat- 
ter, kneeling  gracefully  on  one  knee,  said  calmly,  "  It 
is  I,  my  good  liege,  Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe." 

"What,    Wilfrid    of   Templestowe,   Wilfrid   the 


REBECCA    AND    ROWEXA.  221 

married  man,  Wilfrid  the  hen-pecked."'  cried  the  Kin  or 
with  a  sudden  burst  of  good  humour,  flinging  away 
the  culverin  from  him,  as  though  it  had  been  a  reed 
(it  lighted  three  hundred  yards  off.  on  the  foot  of 
Hugo  de  Bunyon,  who  was  smoking  a  cigar  at  the 
door  of  his  tent,  and  caused  that  redoubted  warrior 
to  limp  for  some  days  after).  "  What,  Wilfrid,  my 
gossip  ?  Art  come  to  see  the  Lion's  den  ?  There 
are  bones  in  it,  man,  bones  and  carcases,  and  the  Lion 
is  angry,"  said  the  King,  with  a  terrific  glare  of  his 
eyes,  '•  but  tush  !  we  will  talk  of  that  anon.  Ho  ! 
bring  two  gallons  of  hypocras  for  the  King,  and  the 
good  knight,  Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe.  Thou  art  come  in 
time,  Wilfrid,  for  by  St.  Richard,  and  St.  George,  we 
will  give  a  grand  assault  to-morrow.  There  will  be 
bones  broken,  ha  !  " 

'■'  I  care  not,  my  liege,"'  said  Ivanhoe,  pledging  the 
Sovereign  respectfully,  and  tossing  off  the  whole  con- 
tents of  the  bowl  of  hypocras  to  his  Highness's  good 
health, — and  he  at  once  appeared  to  be  taken  into 
high  favour,  not  a  little  to  the  envy  of  many  of  the 
persons  surrounding  the  King. 

As  his  Majesty  said,  there  was  fighting  and  feast- 
ing in  plenty  before  Chains.  Day  after  day,  the  be- 
siegers made  assaults  upon  the  castle,  but  it  was  held 
so  stoutly  by  the  Count  of  Chalus,  and  his  gallant 
garrison,  that  each  afternoon  beheld  the  attacking 
parties  returning  disconsolately  to  their  tents,  lea\'ing 


222  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 

behind  them  many  of  their  own  slain,  and  bringing 
back  with  them  store  of  broken  heads,  and  maimed 
limbs,  received  in  the  unsuccessful  onset.  The  valour 
displayed  by  Ivanhoe,  in  all  these  contests,  was  pro- 
digious ;  and  the  way  in  which  he  escaped  death  from 
the  discharges  of  mangonels,  catapults,  battering- 
rams,  twenty-four  pounders,  boiling  oil,  and  other 
artillery,  with  which  the  besieged  received  their  ene- 
mies, was  remarkable.  After  a  day's  fighting.  Gurth 
and  Wamba  used  to  pick  tlie  arrows  out  of  their 
intrepid  master's  coat  of  mail,  as  if  they  had  been  so 
many  almonds  in  a  pudding.  'Twas  well  for  the 
good  knight,  that  under  his  first  coat  of  armour  he 
wore  a  choice  suit  of  Toledan  steel,  perfectly  imper- 
vious to  arrow  shots,  and  given  to  him  by  a  certain 
Jew,  named  Isaac  of  York,  to  whom  he  had  done 
some  considerable  services  a  few  years  back. 

If  King  Richard  had  not  been  in  such  a  rage  at 
the  repeated  failures  of  his  attacks  upon  the  Castle, 
that  all  sense  of  justice  was  blinded  in  the  lion-hearted 
Monarch,  he  would  have  been  the  first  to  acknowledge 
the  valour  of  Sir  Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe,  and  would  have 
given  him  a  Peerage,  and  the  Grand  Cross  of  the 
Bath,  at  least  a  dozen  times  in  the  course  of  the 
siege :  for  Ivanhoe  led  more  than  a  dozen  storming 
parties,  and  with  his  own  hand  killed  as  many  men 
(viz.  two  thousand  three  hundred  and  fifty-one)  with- 
in  six,  as  were   slain  by  the  lion-hearted  Monarch 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  223 

himself.  But  liis  Majesty  was  rather  disgusted  than 
pleased,  by  his  faithful  servant's  prowess  :  and  all  the 
courtiers  who  hated  Ivanhoe  for  his  superior  valour 
and  dexterity  (for  he  would  kill  you  off  a  couple  of 
hundred  of  them  of  Chains,  whilst  the  strongest 
champions  of  the  King's  host  could  not  finish  more 
than  their  two  dozen  of  a  day),  poisoned  the  royal 
mind  against  Sir  Wilfrid,  and  made  the  King  look 
upon  his  feats  of  arms  with  an  evil  eye.  Roger  de 
Backbite  sneeringly  told  the  King,  that  Sir  Wilfrid 
had  offered  to  bet  an  equal  bet,  that  he  would  kill 
more  men  than  Bichard  himself  in  the  next  assault ; 
Peter  de  Toadhole-'said,  that  Ivanhoe  stated  every 
where,  that  his  Majesty  was  not  the  man  he  used  to 
be  :  that  pleasures  and  drink  had  enervated  him  ; 
that  he  could  neither  ride,  nor  strike  a  blow  with 
sword  or  axe,  as  he  had  been  enabled  to  do  in  the 
old  times  in  Palestine  ;  and  finally,  in  the  twenty- 
fifth  assault,  in  which  they  had  very  nearly  carried 
the  place,  and  in  which  onset  Ivanhoe  slew  seven, 
and  his  Majesty  six,  of  the  sons  of  the  Count  de 
Chains,  its  defender,  Ivanhoe  almost  did  for  himself, 
by  planting  his  banner  before  the  King's,  upon  the 
wall ;  and  only  rescued  himself  from  utter  disgrace, 
by  saving  his  Majesty's  life  several  times  in  the 
course  of  this  most  desperate  onslaught. 

Then  the  luckless  knight's  very  virtues  (as,  no 
doubt,  my  respected  readers  know)  made  him  ene- 


224  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA, 

mies  amongst  the  men — nor  was  Ivanhoe  liked  by 
the  women  frequenting  the  camp  of  the  gay  King 
Richard.  His  young  Queen,  and  a  brilliant  court  of 
ladies,  attended  the  pleasure-loving  Monarch.  His 
Majesty  would  transact  business  in  the  morning,  then 
fight  severely  from  after  breakfast  till  about  three 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon  ;  from  which  time,  until  after 
midnight,  there  was  nothing  but  jigging  and  singing, 
feasting  and  revelry,  in  the  royal  tents.  Ivanhoe, 
who  was  asked  as  a  matter  of  ceremony,  and  forced 
to  attend  these  entertainments,  not  caring  about  the 
blandishments  of  any  of  the  ladies  present,  looked  on 
at  their  ogling  and  dancing  with  a  countenance  as 
glum  as  an  undertaker's,  and  was  a  perfect  wet 
blanket  in  the  midst  of  the  festivities.  His  favour- 
ite resort  and  conversation  were  with  a  remarkably 
austere  hermit,  who  lived  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
Chains,  and  with  whom  Ivanhoe  loved  to  talk  about 
Palestine,  and  the  Jews,  and  other  grave  matters  of 
import,  better  than  to  mingle  in  the  gayest  amuse- 
ments of  the  court  of  King  Richard.  Many  a  night, 
when  the  Queen  and  the  ladies  were  dancing  quad- 
rilles and  polkas  (in  which  his  Majesty,  who  was 
enormously  stout  as  well  as  tall,  insisted  upon  figur- 
ing, and  in  which  he  was  about  as  graceful  as  an 
elephant  dancing  a  hornpipe),  Ivanhoe  would  steal 
away  from  the  ball,  and  come  and  have  a  night's  chat 
under  the  moon  with  his  reverend  friend.     It  pained 


REBfiCCA    AND    ROWfiNA.  225 

him  to  see  a  man  of  the  King's  age  and  size  dancing 
about  with  the  young  folks.  They  laughed  at  his 
Majesty  whilst  they  flattered  him  :  the  pages  and 
maids  of  honour  mimicked  the  royal  mountebank 
almost  to  his  face  :  and,  if  Ivanhoe  ever  could  have 
laughed,  he  certainly  would  one  night,  when  the 
King,  in  light-blue  satin  inexpressibles,  with  his  hair 
in  powder,  chose  to  dance  the  Minuet  de  la  Cour  with 
the  little  Queen  Berengaria. 

Then,  after  dancing,  his  Majesty  must  needs  order 
a  guitar,  and  begin  to  sing.  He  was  said  to  com- 
pose his  own  songs,  words,  and  music — but  those  who 
have  read  Lord  Campobello's  lives  of  the  Lord  Chan- 
cellors, are  aware  that  there  was  a  person  by  the 
name  of  Blondel.  who,  in  fact,  did  all  the  musical 
part  of  the  King's  performances ;  and,  as  for  the 
words,  when  a  King  writes  verses,  we  may  be  sure 
there  will  be  plenty  of  people  to  admire  his  poetry. 
His  Majesty  would  sing  you  a  ballad,  of  which  he 
had  stolen  every  idea,  to  an  air  which  was  ringing  on 
all  the  barrel-organs  of  Christendom,  and,  turning 
round  to  his  courtiers,  would  say,  "  How  do  you  like 
that  7  I  dashed  it  off  this  morning."  Or,  "  Blondel, 
what  do  you  think  of  this  movement  in  B  flat  ?  "  or 
what  not ;  and  the  courtiers  and  Blondel,  you  may 
be  sure,  would  applaud  with  all  their  might,  like 
hypocrites  as  they  were. 

One   evening,  it  was    the   evening  of  the   27th 
10* 


226  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 


March,  1199,  indeed,  bis  Majesty,  who  was  in  the 
musical  mood,  treated  the  court  with  a  quantity  of 
his  so-called  compositions,  until  the  people  were  fairly 
tired  of  clapping  with  their  hands,  and  laughing  in 
their  sleeves.  First  he  sang  an  original  air  and 
poem,  beginning 

Cherries  nice,  cherries  nice,  nice,  come  choose. 
Fresh  and  fair  ones,  who'll  refuse  ?  &c. 

The  which  he  was  ready  to  take  bis  affidavit  he  had 
composed  the  day  before  yesterday.  Then  be  sang 
an  equally  original  heroic  melody,  of  which  the 
chorus  was 

Paile  Britannia,  Britannia  rules  the  sea, 

For  Britons,  never,  never,  never,  slaves  shall  be,  <fec. 

The  courtiers  applauded  this  song  as  they  did  the 
other,  all  except  Ivanhoe.  who  sat  without  changing 
a  muscle  of  bis  features,  until  the  King  questioned 
him,  when  the  knight  with  a  bow  said,  "  he  thought 
be  bad  heard  something  very  like  the  air  and  the 
words  elsewhere."  His  Majesty  scowled  at  him  a 
savage  glance  from  under  his  red  bushy  eyebrows ; 
but  Ivanhoe  had  saved  the  royal  life  that  day,  and 
the  King,  therefore,  with  difficulty  controlled  his 
indignation. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "  by  St.  Richard  and  St.  George 
but  ye  never  heard  this  song,  for  I  composed  it  this 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  227 

very  afternoon  as  I  took  my  bath  after  the  melee. 
Did  I  not,  Blondel?" 

Blondel,  of  course,  was  ready  to  take  an  affidavit 
that  his  Majesty  had  done  as  he  said,  and  the  King, 
thrumming  on  his  guitar  with  his  great  red  fingers 
and  thumbs,  began  to  sing  out  of  tune,  and  as  fol- 
lows : — 

COM^IAXDERS  OF  THE  FAITHFUL. 

The  Pope  he  is  a  happy  man, 

His  Palace  is  the  Vatican  : 

And  there  he  sits  and  drains  his  can, 

The  Pope  he  is  a  happy  man. 

I  often  say  when  I'm  at  home, 

I'd  like  to  be  the  Pope  of  Rome. 

And  then  there's  Snltan  Saladin, 
That  Turkish  Soldan  full  of  sin"; 
He  has  a  hundred  wives  at  least, 
By  which  his  pleasure  is  increased  ; 
I've  often  wished,  I  hope  no  sin, 
That  I  were  Sultan  Saladin. 

But  no,  the  Pope  no  wife  may  choose, 
And  so  I  would  not  wear  his  shoes; 
Xo  wine  may  drink  the  proud  Paynim, 
And  so  I'd  rather  not  be  him; 
My  wife,  my  wine,  I  love  I  hope. 
And  would  be  neither  Turk  nor  Pope. 

Encore  !  Encore  !  Bravo  !  Bis  !  Everybody  ap- 
plauded the  King's  song  with  all  his  might:  every- 


228  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 

body  except  Ivanhoe,  who  preserved  his  abominable 
gravity  ;  and-  when  asked  aloud  by  Roger  de  Back- 
bite whether  he  had  heard  that  too?  said,  firmly, 
'•  Yes,  Roger  de  Backbite,  and  so  hast  thou  if  thou 
darest  but  tell  the  truth." 

"  Now,  by  St.  Cicely,  may  I  never  touch  gittern 
again,"  bawled  the  King  in  a  fury,  "  if  every  note, 
word,  and  thought  be  not  mine  ;  may  I  die  in  to-mor- 
row's onslaught  if  the  song  be  not  my  song.  Sing 
thyself,  Wilfrid  of  the  Lanthorn  Jaws ;  thou  couldst 
sing  a  good  song  in  old  times  :"  and  with  all  his 
might,  and  with  a  forced  laugh,  the  King,  who  loved 
brutal  practical  jests,  flung  his  guitar  at  the  head  of 
Ivanhoe. 

Sir  Wilfrid  caught  it  gracefully  with  one  hand, 
and,  making  an  elegant  bow  to  the  Sovereign,  began 
to  chant  as  follows  : — 

KING  CANUTE. 

King  Canute  was  weary-hearted ;  he  had  reigned  for  years  a  score ; 
Battling,  struggling,  pushing,  fighting,  killing  much  aud  robbing  more, 
And  he  thought  upon  his  actions,  walking  by  the  wild  sea  shore, 

"Twixt  the  Chancellor  and  Bishop  walked  the  King  with  steps  sedate, 
Chamberlains  and  grooms  came  after,  silver  sticks  and  gold  sticks  great, 
Chaplains,  aides-de-camp,  and  pages, — all  the  officers  of  state. 

Sliding  after  like  his  shadow,  pausing  when  he  chose  to  pause; 

If  a  frown  his  face  contracted,  straight  the  courtiers  dropped  their  jaws; 

If  to  laugh  the  King  was  minded,  out  they  burst  in  loud  hee-hawa. 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  229 

Bat  that  day  a  something  vexed  him,  that  was  clear  to  old  and  young, 
Thrice  his  Grace  had  yawned  at  table,  when  his  favourite  gleeman  sung, 
Once  the  Queen  would  have  consoled  him,  but  he  bade  her  hold  her  tongue. 

"  Something  ails  my  gracious  Master,"  cried  the  Keeper  of  the  Seal, 
"Sure,  my  lord,  it  is  the  lampreys,  served  at  dinner,  or  the  veal  I  " 
"  Psha  I  "  exclaimed  the  angry  Monarch,  "  Keeper,  "tis  not  that  I  feel. 

"  'Tis  the  heart  and  not  the  dinner,  fool,  that  doth  my  rest  impair ; 
Can  a  King  be  great  as  I  am,  prithee,  and  yet  know  no  care  ? 
O,  I'm  sick,  and  tired,  and  Aveary/" — Some  one  cried,  '•  The  King's  arm- 
chair ! " 

Then  towards  the  lackeys  turning,  quick  my  lord  the  Keeper  nodded. 
Straight  the  King's  great  chair  was  brought  him,  by  two  footmen  able- 
bodied, 
Languidly  he  sank  into  it ;  it  was  comfortably  wadded. 

"  Leading  on  my  fierce  companions,"  cried  he,  "  over  storm  and  brine, 
I  have  fought  and  I  have  conquered  !    Where  was  glory  like  to  mine  !  " 
Loudly  all  the  courtiers  echoed,  "  "Where  is  glory  like  to  thine  ?  " 

"  "What  avail  me  all  my  kingdoms  ?    "Weary  am  I  now,  and  old, 
Those  fair  sons  I  have  begotten,  long  to  see  me  dead  and  cold ; 
"Would  I  were,  and  quiet  buried,  imderneath  the  silent  mould ! 

"  0,  remorse,  the  writhing  serpent!  at  my  bosom  tears  and  bites  ; 
Horrid,  horrid  things  I  look  on,  though  I  put  out  all  the  lights  ; 
Grhosts  of  ghastly  recollections  troop  about  my  bed  of  nights. 

"  Cities  burning,  convents  blazing,  red  with  sacrilegious  fires  ; 

Mothers  weeping,  virgins  screaming,  vainly  for  their  slaughtered  sires — " 

—  "  Such  a  tender  conscience,"  cries  the  Bishop,  "  every  one  admires. 

But  for  such  unpleasant  bygones,  cease,  my  gracious  Lord,  to  search, 
They're  forgotten  and  forgiven  by  our  holy  Mother  Church  ; 
Never,  never  does  she  leave  her  benefactors  in  the  Im'ch. 

"Look!  the  land  is  crowned  with  Minsters,  which  your  Grace's  bounty 

raised ; 
Abbeys  filled  with  holy  men,  where  you  and  Heaven  are  daily  praised ; 
You^  my  lord,  to  think  of  dying  ?  on  my  conscience,  Tm  amazed  ! "' 


230  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 

"Nay,  I  feel,"  replied  King  Canute,  "  that  my  end  is  drawing  near:  " 
"Don't  say  so,"  exclaimed  the  courtiers  (striving each  to  squeeze  a  tear). 
"  Sure  your  Grace  is  strong  and  lusty,  and  may  live  this  fifty  year. 

"  Live  these  fifty  years  !  "  the  Bishop  roared,  with  actions  made  to  suit, 
"  Are  you  mad,  my  good  Lord  Keeper,  thus  to  speak  of  King  Canute  ? 
Men  have  lived  a  thousand  years,  and  sure  his  Majesty  will  do  't 

•'Adam,  Enoch,  Lamech,  Canan,  Mahaleel,  Methusela, 

Lived  nine  hundred  years  apiece,  and  mayn't  the  King  as  well  as  they?" 

"Fervently,"  exclaimed  the  Keeper,  "fervently,  I  trust  he  may." 

'•  lie  to  die? "'  resumed  the  Bishop.  "  He  a  mortal  like  to  u&  ? 
Death  was  not  for  him  intended,  though  community  omjiibus  ; 
Keeper,  you  are  irreligious,  for  to  talk  and  cavil  thus. 

"With  his  wondrous  skill  in  healing  ne'er  a  Doctor  can  compete, 
Loathsome  lepers,  if  he  touch  them,  start  up  clean  upon  their  feet ; 
Surely  he  could  raise  the  dead  up,  did  his  Highness  tliink  it  meet 

"  Did  not  once  the  Jewisli  Captain  stay  tlie  sun  upon  the  hill. 
And,  the  while  he  slew  the  foemen,  bid  the  silver  moon  stand  still? 
So,  no  doubt,  could  gracious  Canute,  if  it  were  his  sacred  will." 

"  Might  I  stay  the  sun  above  us,  good  Sir  Bishop  ?  "    Canute  cried ; 
Could  I  bid  the  silver  moon  to  pause  upon  her  heavenly  ride  ? 
If  the  moon  obeys  my  orders,  sure  f  can  command  the  tide. 

"  Will  the  advancing  waves  obey  me,  Bishop,  if  I  make  the  sign  ?  " 
Said  the  Bishop,  bowing  lowly,  "Land  and  sea,  my  lord,  are  thine." 
Canute  turned  towards  the  ocean—"  Back !  "  he  said,  "  thou  foaming  brineu 

"From  the  sacrtd  shore  I  stand  on,  I  command  thee  to  retreat; 
Venture  not,  thou  stormy  rebel,  to  approach  thy  master's  seat ; 
Ocean,  be  thou  still !  I  bid  thee  come  not  nearer  to  my  feet  1 " 

But  the  sullen  ocean  answered  with  a  louder,  deeper  roar, 

And  the  rapid  waves  drew  nearer,  falling  sounding  on  the  shore ; 

^fick  the  Keeper  and  the  Bishop,  back  the  King  and  Courtiars  bore. 


REBECCA    AXD    ROWENA.  231 

And  he  sternly  bade  them  never  more  to  kneel  to  human  clay, 
But  alone  to  praise  and  worship  That  which  earth  and  seas  obey, 
And  his  golden  crown  of  empire  never  wore  he  from  that  day. 
King  Canute  is  dead  and  gone:  Parasites  exist  alvray. 

At  this  ballad,  which,  to  be  sure,  was  awfully- 
long,  and  as  grave  as  a  sermon,  some  of  the  courtiers 
tittered,  some  yawned,  and  some  affected  to  be  asleep, 
and  snore  outright.  But  Roger  de  Backbite  think- 
ing to  curry  favour  with  the  King  by  this  piece  of 
vulgarity,  his  Majesty  fetched  him  a  knock  on  the 
nose  and  a  buffet  on  the  ear,  which,  I  warrant  me, 
wakened  Master  Roger  ;  to  whom  the  King  said, 
"  Listen  and  be  civil,  slave,  Wilfrid  is  singing  about 
thee — "Wilfrid,  thy  ballad  is  long,  but  it  is  to  the 
purpose,  and  I  have  grown  cool  during  thy  homily. 
Give  me  thy  hand,  honest  friend.  Ladies,  good- 
night. Gentlemen,  we  give  the  grand  assault  to- 
morrow :  when  I  promise  thee,  Wilfrid,  thy  banner 
shall  not  be  before  mine  '" — and  the  King  giving  his 
arm  to  her  Majesty,  retired  into  the  private  pavilion. 


CHAPTER  in. 

ST.    GEORGE    FOR    EXGLAXD. 

Whilst  the  Royal  Richard  and  his  court  were  feast- 
ing in  the  camp  outside  the  walls  of  Chains,  they 


232  "REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 

of  the  castle  were  in  the  most  miserable  plight  that 
may  be  conceived.  Hunger,  as  well  as  the  fierce 
assaults  of  the  besiegers,  had  made  dire  ravages  in 
the  place.  The  garrison's  provisions  of  corn  and 
cattle,  their  very  horses,  dogs,  and  donkeys  had  been 
eaten  up — so  that  it  might  well  be  said  by  Wamba, 
"  that  famine,  as  well  as  slaughter,  had  thinned  the 
garrison."  When  the  men  of  Chalus  came  on  the 
walls  to  defend  it  against  the  scaling  parties  of  King 
Richard — they  were  like  so  many  skeletons  in  ar- 
mour— they  could  hardly  pull  their  bow-strings  at 
last,  or  pitch  down  stones  on  the  heads  of  his  Majes- 
ty's party,  so  weak  had  their  arms  become,  and  the 
gigantic  Count  of  Chains,  a  warrior  as  redoubtable 
for  his  size  and  strength  as  Richard  Plantagenet 
himself,  was  scarcely  able  to  lift  up  his  battle-axe 
upon  the  day  of  that  last  assault,  when  Sir  Wilfrid 
of  Ivanhoe  ran  him  through  the  *  *  but  we  are 
advancing  matters. 

What  should  prevent  me  from  describing  the 
agonies  of  hunger  which  the  Count  (a  man  of  large 
appetite)  suffered  in  company  with  his  heroic  sons 
and  garrison  ? — Nothing,  but  that  Dante  has  already 
done  the  business  in  the  notorious  history  of  Count 
Ugolino,  so  that  my  efforts  might  be  considered  as 
mere  imitations.  Why  should  I  not,  if  I  were  mind- 
ed to  revel  in  horrifying  details,  show  you  how  the 
famished    garrison    drew    lots,    and    ate    themselves 


REBECCA    AND    PcOWENA.  233 

during  the  siege  ;  and  how  the  unlucky  lot  falling 
upon  the  Countess  of  Chalus,  that  heroic  woman, 
taking  an  affectionate  leave  of  her  family,  caused  her 
large  cauldron  in  the  castle  kitchen  to  be  set  a  boil- 
ing, had  onions,  carrots  and  herbs,  pepper  and  salt 
made  ready,  to  make  a  savoury  soup,  as  the  French 
call  it.  and  when  all  things  were  quite  completed, 
kissed  her  children,  jumped  into  the  cauldron  from 
off  a  kitchen  stool,  and  so  was  stewed  down  in  her 
flannel  bed-gown  ?  Dear  friends,  it  is  not  from  want 
of  imagination,  or  from  having  no  turn  for  the  terri- 
ble or  pathetic,  that  I  spare  you  these  details. — I 
could  give  you  some  description  that  would  spoil 
your  dinner  and  night's  rest,  and  make  yom-  hair 
stand  on  end.  —  But  why  harrow  your  feelings  ? 
Fancy  all  the  tortures  and  horrors  that  possibly  can 
occur  in  a  beleaguered  and  famished  castle  :  fancy 
the  feelings  of  men  who  know  that  no  more  quarter 
will  be  given  them  than  they  would  get  if  they  were 
peaceful  Hungarian  citizens,  kidnapped  and  brought 
to  trial  by  his  Majesty  the  Emperor  of  Austria,  and 
then  let  us  rush  on  to  the  breach,  and  prepare  once 
more  to  meet  the  assault  of  dreadful  King  Richard 
and  his  men. 

On  the  •29th  of  March  in  the  year  1 199,  the  good 
King,  having  copiously  partaken  of  breakfast,  caused 
his  trumpets  to  blow,  and  advanced  with  his  host 
upon  the  breach  of  the  castle  of  Chalus.     Arthur  de 


234  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 


Pendennis  bore  bis  banner ;  Wilfrid  of  Ivanboe 
fought  on  tbe  King's  rigbt  band.  Molyneux,  Bisbop 
of  Bullocksmitby,  dojffed  crosier  and  mitre  for  that 
day,  and  though  fat  and  pursy,  panted  up  the  breach 
with  the  most  resolute  spirit,  roaring  out  war  cries 
and  curses,  and  wielding  a  prodigious  mace  of  iron, 
with  which  he  did  good  execution.  Hugo  de  Backbite 
was  forced  to  come  in  attendance  upon  the  Sovereign, 
but  took  care  to  keep  in  the  rear  of  his  august 
master,  and  to  shelter  behind  his  huge  triangular 
shield  as  much  as  possible.  Many  lords  of  note  fol- 
lowed the  King  and  bore  the  ladders ;  and  as  they 
were  placed  against  the  wall,  the  air  was  perfectly 
dark  with  the  shower  of  arrows  which  the  English 
archers  poured  out  at  the  besiegers  ;  and  the  cata- 
ract of  stones,  kettles,  boot-jacks,  chests  of  drawers, 
crockery,  umbrellas,  congreve-rockets,  bomb-shells, 
bolts  and  arrows,  and  other  missiles  which  the  despe- 
rate garrison  flung  out  on  the  storming  party.  The 
King  received  a  copper  coal-scuttle  right  over  his 
eyes,  and  a  mahogany  wardrobe  was  discharged  at 
his  morion,  which  would  have  felled  an  ox,  and  would 
have  done  for  the  King  had  not  Ivanboe  warded  it 
off  skilfully.  Still  they  advanced,  the  warriors  fall- 
ing around  them  like  grass  beneath  the  scythe  of  the 
mower. 

The  ladders  were   placed  in  spite  of  the  hail  of 
death  raining  round  ;  the  King  and  Ivanboe  were,  of 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  235 


course,  the  j&rst  to  mount  them.  Chalus  stood  in  the 
breach,  borrowing  strength  from  despair  ;  and  roaring 
out  '•  Ha  !  Plantagenet,  Saint  Barbacue  for  Chalus  !  " 
he  dealt  the  King  a  crack  across  the  helmet  with  his 
battle-axe,  which  shore  off  the  gilt  lion  and  crown 
that  surmounted  the  steel  cap.  The  King  bent  and 
reeled  back ;  the  besiegers  were  dismayed  :  the  gar- 
rison and  the  Count  of  Chalus  set  up  a  shout  of  tri- 
umph :  but  it  was  premature. 

As  quick  as  thought  Ivanhoe  was  into  the  Count 
with  a  thrust  in  tierce,  which  took  him  just  at  the 
joint  of  the  armour,  and  ran  him  through  as  clean  as 
a  spit  does  a  partridge.  Uttering  a  horrid  shriek,  he 
fell  back  writhing  ;  the  King  recovering  staggered 
up  the  parapet ;  the  rush  of  knights  followed,  and 
the  union-jack  was  planted  triumphantly  on  the  walls 
just  as  Ivanhoe, — but  we  must  leave  him  for  a  mo- 
ment. 

'•Ha,  St.  Richard!— ha,  St.  George!"  the  tre- 
mendous voice  of  the  Lion-king  was  heard  over  the 
loudest  roar  of  the  onset.  At  every  sweep  of  his 
blade  a  severed  head  flew  over  the  parapet,  a  spouting 
trunk  tumbled,  bleeding,  on  the  flags  of  the  bartizan. 
The  world  hath  never  seen  a  warrior  equal  to  that 
Lion-hearted  Plantagenet,  as  he  raged  over  the  keep, 
his  eyes  flashing  fire  through  the  bars  of  his  morion, 
snorting  and  chafing  with  the  hot  lust  of  battle.  One 
by  one  les  infants  de  Chalus  had  fallen  ;  there  was 


236  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 

only  one  left  at  last  of  all  the  brave  race  that  had 
fought  round  the  gallant  Count : — only  one,  and  but 
a  boy,  a  fair-haired  boy,  a  blue-eyed  boy  !  he  had  been 
gathering  pansies  in  the  field  but  yesterday — it  was 
but  a  few  years,  and  he  was  a  baby  in  his  mother's 
arms  !  What  could  his  puny  sword  do  against  the 
most  redoubted  blade  in  Christendom  7 — and  yet  Bo- 
hemond  faced  the  great  champion  of  England,  and 
met  him  foot  to  foot  !  Turn  away,  turn  away,  my 
dear  young  friends  and  kind-hearted  ladies  !  Do  not 
look  at  that  ill-fated  poor  boy  !  his  blade  is  crushed 
into  splinters  under  the  axe  of  the  conqueror,  and  the 
poor  child  is  beaten  to  his  knee  I   *   *   * 

"  Now,  by  St.  Barbacue  of  Limoges,"  said  Ber- 
trand  de  Gourdon,  '•  the  butcher  will  never  strike 
down  yonder  lambling  !  Hold  thy  hand,  Sir  King, 
or,  by  St.  Barbacue — " 

Swift  as  thought  the  veteran  archer  raised  his 
arblast  to  his  shoulder,  the  whizzing  bolt  fled  from 
the  ringing  string,  and  the  next  moment  crushed 
quivering  into  the  corslet  of  Plantagenet. 

'Twas  a  luckless  shot,  Bertrand  of  Gourdon ! 
Maddened  by  the  pain  of  the  wound,  the  brute  nature 
of  Richard  was  aroused  :  his  fiendish  appetite  for 
blood  rose  to  madness,  and  grinding  his  teeth,  and 
with  a  curse  too  horrible  to  mention,  the  flashing  axe 
of  the  royal  butcher  fell  down  on  the  blond  ringlets 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  237 

of  the  child,  and  the  children  of  Chains  -were  no 
more  I  *  *  * 

I  just  throw  this  off  by  way  of  description,  and 
to  show  what  might  be  done  if  I  chose  to  indulge  in 
this  style  of  composition,  but  as  in  the  battles,  which 
are  described  by  the  kindly  chronicler  of  one  of  whose 
works  this  present  masterpiece  is  professedly  a  con- 
tinuation, everything  passes  off  agreeably  ;  the  people 
are  slain,  but  without  any  unpleasant  sensation  to  the 
reader  ;  nay  some  of  the  most  savage  and  blood-stain- 
ed characters  of  history,  such  is  the  indomitable  good 
humour  of  the  great  novelist,  become  amiable  jovial 
companions,  for  whom  one  has  a  hearty  sympathy — 
so,  if  you  please,  we  will  have  this  fighting  business 
at  Chains,  and  the  garrison  and  honest  Bertrand  of 
Gourdon,  disposed  of,  the  former  according  to  the 
usage  of  the  good  old  times,  having  been  hung  up,  or 
murdered  to  a  man,  and  the  latter  killed  in  the  man- 
ner described  by  the  late  Dr.  Goldsmith  in  his 
History. 

As  for  the  Lion-hearted,  we  all  very  well  know 
that  the  shaft  of  Bertrand  de  Gourdon  put  an  end  to 
the  royal  hero — and  that  from  that  29  th  of  March 
he  never  robbed  or  murdered  any  more.  And  we 
have  legends  in  recondite  books  of  the  manner  of 
the  King's  death. 

'•  You   must   die.   my    son,"    said   the   venerable 


238  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 

Walter  of  Rouen,  as  Berengaria  was  carried  shrieking 
from  the  King's  tent.  "  Repent,  Sir  King,  and  sepa- 
rate yourself  from  jour  children  ! " 

'■'  It  is  ill-jesting  wich  a  dying  man,"  replied  the 
King.  "  Children  have  I  none,  my  good  lord  bishop, 
to  inherit  after  me." 

"  Richard  of  England,"  said  the  archbishop,  turn- 
ing up  his  fine  eyes,  '•  your  vices  are  your  children. 
Ambition  is  your  eldest  child,  Cruelty  is  your  second 
child,  Luxury  is  your  third  child,  and  you  have  nou- 
rished them  from  your  youth  up.  Separate  yourself 
from  these  sinful  ones,  and  prepare  your  soul,  for  the 
hour  of  departure  draweth  nigh." 

Violent,  wicked,  sinful,  as  he  might  have  been, 
Richard  of  England  met  his  death  like  a  Christian 
man.  Peace  be  to  the  soul  of  the  brave  !  When 
the  news  came  to  King  Philip  of  France,  he 
sternly  forbade  his  courtiers  to  rejoice  at  the  death 
of  his  enemy.  '*  It  is  no  matter  of  joy  but  of  dolour," 
he  said,  '■  that  the  bulwark  of  Christendom  and  the 
bravest  king  of  Europe  is  no  more." 

Meanwhile  what  has  become  of  Sir  Wilfrid  of 
Ivanhoe,  whom  we  left  in  the  act  of  rescuing  his 
Sovereign  by  running  the  Count  of  Chains  through 
the  body  ? 

As  the  good  knight  stooped  down  to  pick  his 
sword  out  of  the  corpse  of  his  fallen  foe,  some  one 
coming  behind  him  suddenly  thrust  a  dagger  into  his 


REBECCA    AND    E.OWENA.  239 


back  at  a  place  where  his  shirt  of  mail  was  open  (for 
Sir  Wilfrid  had  armed  that  morning  in  a  hiirrj.  and  it 
was  his  breast,  not  his  back,  that  he  was  accustomed 
ordinarily  to  protect),  and  when  poor  Wamba  came 
up  on  the  rampart,  which  he  did  when  the  fighting 
was  over — being  such  a  fool  that  he  could  not  be  got 
to  thrust  his  head  into  danger  for  glory's  sake — lie 
found  his  dear  knight  with  the  dagger  in  his  back  ly- 
ing without  life  upon  the  body  of  the  Count  de  Cha- 
ins whom  he  had  anon  slain. 

Ah.  what  a  howl  poor  Wamba  set  up-  when  he 
found  his  master  killed  !  How  he  lamented  over  the 
corpse  of  that  noble  knight  and  friend  !  What  mat- 
tered it  to  him  that  Richard  the  King  was  borne 
wounded  to  his  tent,  and  that  Bertrand  de  Gourdon 
was  flayed  alive  ?  At  another  time  the  sight  of  this 
spectacle  might  have  amused  the  simple  knave ;  but 
now  all  his  thoughts  were  of  his  lord,  so  good,  so  gen- 
tle, so  kind,  so  loyal,  so  frank  with  the  great,  so  ten- 
der to  the  poor,  so  truthful  of  speech,  so  modest  re- 
garding his  own  merit,  so  true  a  gentleman,  in  a  word, 
that  anybody  might,  with  reason,  deplore  him. 

As  Wamba  opened  the  dear  knight's  corslet,  he 
found  a  locket  round  his  neck,  in  which  there  was 
some  hair,  not  flaxen  like  that  of  my  Lady  Rowena, 
who  was  almost  as  fair  as  an  x\lbino.  but  as  black, 
Wamba  thought,  as  the  locks  of  the  Jewish  maiden 
whom  the  knight  had  rescued  in  the  lists  of  Temnle- 


240  REBECCA    AND    ROWEXA. 


stowe.  A  bit  of  Rowena's  hair  was  in  Sir  Wilfrid's 
possession,  too,  but  that  was  in  Ins  purse  along  with 
his  seal  of  arms,  and  a  couple  of  groats  ;  for  the  good 
knight  never  kept  any  money,  so  generous  was  he  of 
his  largesses  when  money  came  in. 

Wamba  took  the  purse,  and  seal,  and  groats,  but 
he  left  the  locket  of  hair  round  his  master's  neck, 
and  when  he  returned  to  England  never  said  a  word 
about  the  circumstance.  After  all,  how  should  he 
know  whose  hair  it  was  ?  It  might  have  been  the 
knight's  grandmother's  hair  for  aught  the  fool  knew ; 
so  he  kept  his  counsel  when  he  brought  back  the  sad 
news  and  tokens  to  the  disconsolate  widow  at  Rother- 
wood. 

The  poor  fellow  would  never  have  left  the  body  at 
all,  and  indeed  sat  by  it  all  night,  and  until  the  grey 
of  the  morning,  when,  seeing  two  suspicious-looking 
characters  advancing  towards  him,  he  fled  in  dismay, 
supposing  that  they  were  marauders  who  were  out 
searching  for  booty  among  the  dead  bodies ;  and  having 
not  the  least  courage,  he  fled  from  these,  and  tumbled 
down  the  breach,  and  never  stopped  running  as  fast  as 
his  legs  would  carry  him  until  he  reached  the  tents 
of  his  late  beloved  master. 

The  news  of  the  knight's  demise,  it  appeared,  had 
been  known  at  his  quarters  long  before ;  for  his  ser- 
vants were  gone,  and  had  ridden  ofi"  on  his  horses ; 
his  chests  were  plundered,  there  was  not  so  much  as 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  241 


a  shirt  collar  left  in  his  drawers,  and  the  very  bed 
and  blankets  had  been  carried  away  hy  these  faithful 
attendants.  Who  had  slain  Ivanhoe  ?  That  remains 
a  mystery  to  the  present  day ;  but  Hugo  de  Back- 
bite, whose  nose  he  had  pulled  for  defamation,  and 
who  was  behind  him  in  the  assault  at  Chains,  was 
seen  two  years  afterwards  at  the  Court  of  King  John 
in  an  embroidered  velvet  waistcoat,  which  Rowena 
could  have  sworn  she  had  worked  for  Ivanhoe,  and 
about  which  the  widow  would  have  made  some  lit- 
tle noise,  but  that — but  that  she  was  no  longer  a 
widow. 

That  she  truly  deplored  the  death  of  her  lord, 
cannot  be  questioned,  for  she  ordered  the  deepest 
mourning  which  any  milliner  in  York  could  supply, 
and  erected  a  monument  to  his  memory,  as  big  as  a 
minster.  But  she  was  a  lady  of  such  fine  principles, 
that  she  did  not  allow  her  grief  to  over-master  her ; 
and  an  opportunity  speedily  arising  for  uniting  the 
two  best  Saxon  families  in  England,  by  an  alliance 
between  herself  and  the  gentleman  who  offered  him- 
self to  her,  ErOwena  sacrified  her  inclination  to  remain 
single,  to  her  sense  of  duty  ;  and  contracted  a  second 
matrimonial  engagement. 

That  Athelstane  was  the  man,  I  suppose  no  reader 
familiar  with  life,  and  novels  (which  are  a  rescript  of 
life,  and  are  all  strictly  natural  and  edifying),  can  for 
11 


242  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 

a  moment  doubt.  Cardinal  Pandulfo  tied  the  knot 
for  them  :  and  lest  there  should  be  any  doubt  about 
Ivanhoe's  death  (for  his  body  was  never  sent  home 
after  all,  nor  seen  after  Wamba  ran  away  from  it),  his 
eminence  procured  a  papal  decree,  annulling  the 
former  marriage,  so  that  Eowena  became  Mrs.  Atkel- 
stane  with  a  clear  conscience.  And  who  shall  be  sur- 
prised, if  she  was  happier  with  the  stupid  and  boozy 
thane,  than  with  the  gentle  and  melancholy  Wilfrid  ? 
Did  women  never  have  a  predilection  for  fools,  I 
should  like  to  know  ;  or  fall  in  love  with  donkeys, 
before  the  time  of  the  amours  of  Bottom  and  Titania? 
"  Ah  !  Mary,  had  you  not  preferred  an  ass  to  a  man, 
would  you  have  married  Jack  Bray,  when  a  Michael 
Angelo  offered?  Ah!  Fanny,  were  you  not  a  woman, 
would  you  persist  in  adoring  Tom  Hiccups,  who  beats 
you,  and  comes  home  tipsy  from  the  Club  ?  "  Yes, 
Bowena  cared  a  hundred  times  more  about  tipsy 
Athelstane,  than  ever  she  had  done  for  gentle  Ivan- 
hoe,  and  so  great  was  her  infatuation  about  the  latter, 
that  she  would  sit  upon  his  knee  in  the  presence  of  all 
her  maidens,  and  let  him  smoke  his  cigars  in  the  very 
drawing-room. 

This  is  the  epitaph  she  caused  to  be  written  by 
Father  Drono  (who  piqaed  himself  upon  his  Latinity), 
on  the  stone  commemorating  the  death  of  her  late 
lord : 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA,  243 

^U  isi  (GcuiHri'IJus,  itlli  hum  Siii't  abii&us ; 
Cum  ^lalJio  tt  laitcta,  Normannia  at  qnoqut  jfxBuxtiK 
TnlzxKiiUXK  Jraiat:  ptr  ®uno5  niultunt  tr^uilafiat: 
(Kuiliwtunt  Dui&tt:  atquc  ^.tiCrosoI^ma  iiliit 
?^£u!  nunc  bxA  fossa  sunt  tanti  mi'Iitis  ossa, 
^xor  Et]^£lstani  est  4;onjuxcastissima  ^tanf. 

And   this   is   the   translation  which  the  doggrel 
knave  Wamba  made  of  the  Latin  lines. 

REQUIESCAT. 

Under  the  stone  you  behold, 
Buried,  and  coffined,  and  cold, 
Lieth  Sir  Wilfrid  the  Bold. 

Always  he  marched  in  advance, 
Warring  in  Flanders  and  France, 
Doughty  with  sword  and  with  lance. 

Famous  in  Saracen  fight. 

Rode  in  his  youth  the  good  knight, 

Scattering  Paynims  in  flight. 

Brian  the  Templar  untrue. 
Fairly  in  tourney  he  slew. 
Saw  Hierusalem  too. 

Now  he  is  buried  and  gone, 
Lying  beneath  the  grey  stone : 
Where  shall  you  find  such  a  one  ? 

Long  time  his  widow  deplored, 
Weeping  the  fate  of  her  lord, 
Sadly  cut  off  by  the  sword. 


244  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 

When  she  was  eased  of  her  pain, 
Came  the  good  Lord  Athelstane, 
When  her  ladyship  married  again. 

Athelstane  burst  into  a  loud  laugh,  when  he  heard 
it,  at  the  last  line,  but  Rowena  would  have  had  the 
fool  whipped,  had  not  the  Thane  interceded,  and  to 
him,  she  said,  she  could  refuse  nothing. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

IVANHOE       REDIVIVUS. 

I  TRUST  nobody  will  suppose,  from  the  events  de- 
scribed in  the  last  Chapter,  that  our  friend  Ivanhoe 
is  really  dead.  Because  we  have  given  him  an  epitaph 
or  two  and  a  monument,  are  these  any  reasons  that  he 
should  be  really  gone  out  of  the  world  ?  No  :  as  in 
the  pantomime,  when  we  see  Clown  and  Pantaloon  lay 
out  Harlequin  and  cry  over  him,  we  are  always  sure 
that  Master  Harlequin  will  be  up  at  the  next  minute 
alert  and  shining  in  his  glistening  coat ;  and,  after 
giving  a  box  on  the  ears  to  the  pair  of  them,  will  be 
taking  a  dance  with  Columbine,  or  leaping  gaily 
through  the  clock-face,  or  into  the  three-pair-of-stairs 
window: — so  Sir  Wilfrid,  the  Harlequin  of  our 
Christmas  piece,  may  be  run  through  a  little,  or  may 
make  believe  to  be  dead,  but  will  assuredly  rise  up 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  245 

again  when  lie  is  wanted,  and  show  himself  at  the 
right  moment. 

The  suspicious-looking  characters  from  whom 
Wamba  ran  away  were  no  cut-throats  and  plunderers 
as  the  poor  knave  imagined,  but  no  other  than  Ivan- 
hoe's  friend,  the  hermit,  and  a  reverend  brother  of  his, 
who  visited  the  scene  of  the  late  battle  in  order  to 
see  if  any  Christians  still  survived  there,  whom  they 
might  shrive  and  get  ready  for  Heaven,  or  to  whom 
they  might  possibly  offer  the  benefit  of  their  skill  as 
leeches.  Both  were  prodigiously  learned  in  the  heal- 
ing art :  and  had  about  them  those  precious  elixirs 
which  so  often  occur  in  romances,  and  with  which 
patients  are  so  miraculously  restored.  Abruptly 
dropping  his  master's  head  from  his  lap  as  he  fled, 
poor  Wamba  caused  the  knight's  pate  to  fall  with 
rather  a  heavy  thump  to  the  ground,  and  if  the  knave 
had  but  stayed  a  minute  longer,  he  would  have  heard 
Sir  Wilfrid  utter  a  deep  groan.  But  though  the  fool 
heard  him  not,  the  holy  hermits  did  ;  and  to  recognize 
the  gallant  Wilfrid,  to  withdraw  the  enormous  dagger 
still  sticking  out  of  his  back,  to  wash  the  wound  with 
a  portion  of  the  precious  elixir,  and  to  pour  a  little 
of  it  down  his  throat,  was  with  the  excellent  hermits 
the  work  of  an  instant ;  which  remedies  being  applied, 
one  of  the  good  men  took  the  knight  by  the  heels  and 
the  other  by  the  head,  and  bore  him  daintily  from  the 
castle  to  their  hermitage  in  a  neighbouring  rock.    As 


246  REBECCA    AND    E.OWENA. 

for  the  Count  of  Chains,  and  the  remainder  of  the 
slain,  the  hermits  were  too  much  occupied  with  Ivan- 
hoe's  case  to  mind  them,  and  did  not,  it  appears,  give 
them  any  elixir,  so  that,  if  they  are  really  dead,  they 
must  stay  on  the  rampart  stark  and  cold  ;  or  if  other- 
wise, when  the  scene  closes  upon  them  as  it  does  noW; 
they  may  get  up,  shake  themselves,  go  to  the  slips  and 
drink  a  pot  of  porter,  or  change  their  stage-clothes 
and  go  Lome  to  supper.  My  dear  readers,  you  may 
settle  the  matter  among  yourselves  as  you  like.  If 
you  wish  to  kill  the  characters  really  off,  let  them  be 
dead,  and  have  done  with  them  ;  but,  entre  nous^  I 
don't  believe  they  are  any  more  dead  than  you  or  I 
are,  and  sometimes  doubt  whether  there  is  a  single 
syllable  of  truth  in  this  whole  story. 

Well,  Ivanhoe  was  taken  to  the  hermits'  cell,  and 
there  doctored  by  the  holy  fathers  for  his  hurts,  which 
were  of  such  a  severe  and  dangerous  order,  that  he 
was  under  medical  treatment  for  a  very  considerable 
time.  When  he  woke  up  from  his  delirium,  and  asked 
how  long  he  had  been  ill,  fancy  his  astonishment  when 
he  heard  that  he  had  been  in  the  fever  for  six  years  ! 
He  thought  the  reverend  fathers  were  joking  at  first, 
but  their  profession  forbade  them  from  that  sort  of 
levity ;  and  besides,  he  could  not  possibly  have  got 
well  any  sooner,  because  the  story  would  have  been 
sadly  put  out  had  he  appeared  earlier.  And  it  proves 
how  good  the  fathers  were  to  him,  and  how  very  nearly 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  247 

that  scoundrel  of  a  Hugh  de  Backbite's  dagger  had 
finished  -him,  that  he  did  not  get  well  under  this  great 
length  of  time,  during  the  whole  of  which  the  fathers 
tended  him  without  ever  thinking  of  a  fee.  I  know 
of  a  kind  physician  in  this  town  who  does  as  much 
sometimes,  but  I  won't  do  him  the  ill  service  of  men- 
tioning his  name  here. 

Ivanhoe,  being  now  quickly  pronounced  well,  trim- 
med his  beard,  which  by  this  time  hung  down  consi- 
derably below  his  knees,  and  calling  for  his  suit  of 
chain  armour,  which  before   had  fitted   his    elegant 
person  as  tight  as  wax.  now  put  it  on.  and  it  bagged 
and  hung  so  loosely  about  him,  that  even  the  good 
Friars  laughed  at  his  absurd  appearance.     It  was  im- 
possible that  he  should  go  about  the  country  in  such 
a  garb  as  that :  the  very  boys  would  laugh  at  him :  so 
the  Friars  gave  him  one  of  their  old  gowns,  in  which 
he  disguised  himself :   and,  after  taking  an  affection- 
ate farewell  of  his  friends,  set  forth  on  his  return  to 
his  native  country.     As  he  went  along,  he  learned 
that  Richard  was  dead,  that  John  reigned,  that  Prince 
Arthur  had  been  poisoned,  and  was  of  course  made 
acquainted  with  various  other  facts  of  public  import- 
ance recorded  in  Pinnock's  Catechism  and  the  Histo- 
ric Page. 

But  these  subjects  did  not  interest  him  near  so 
much  as  his  own  private  affairs  :  and  I  can  fancy  that 
his  legs  trembled  under  him,  and  his  pilgrim's  staff 


248  REBECCA   AND    ROWENA. 

shook  with  emotion,  as  at  length,  after  many  perils, 
he  came  in  sight  of  his  paternal  mansion  of  Rother- 
wood,  and  saw  once  more  the  chimneys  smoking,  the 
shadows  of  the  oaks  over  the  grass  in  the  sunset,  and 
the  rooks  winging  over  the  trees.  He  heard  the  sup- 
per gong  sounding  :  he  knew  his  way  to  the  door  well 
enough  ;  he  entered  the  familiar  hall  with  a  henedicite^ 
and  without  any  more  words  took  his  place. 

You  might  have  thought  for  a  moment  that  the 
grey  friar  trembled,  and  his  shrunken  cheek  looked 
deadly  pale  ;  but  he  recovered  himself  presently,  nor 
could  you  see  his  pallor  for  the  cowl  which  covered 
his  face. 

A  little  boy  was  playing  on  Athelstane's  knee ; 
Rowena,  smiling  and  patting  the  Saxon  Thane  fond- 
ly on  his  broad  bull-head,  filled  him  a  huge  cup  of 
spiced  wine  from  a  golden  jug.  He  drained  a  quart  of 
the  liquor,  and,  turning  round,  addressed  the  friar. — 

"  And  so,  grey  frere,  thou  sawest  good  King 
Richard  fall  at  Chalus  by  the  bolt  of  that  felon  bow- 
man ?  " 

"  We  did,  an  it  please  you.  The  brothers  of  our 
house  attended  the  good  King  in  his  last  moments  ; 
in  truth,  he  made  a  Christian  ending  !  " 

"  And  didst  thou  see  the  archer  flayed  alive  ?  It 
must  have  been  rare  sport,"  roared  Athelstane,  laugh- 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  249 

ing  hugely  at  the  joke.  "  How  the  fellow  must  have 
howled  I " 

"  My  love  !  "  said  Rowena,  interposing  tenderly, 
and  putting  a  pretty  white  finger  on  his  lip. 

''  I  would  have  liked  to  see  it  too,"  cried  the 
boy. 

•'  That's  my  own  little  Cedric,  and  so  thou 
shalt.  And,  friar,  didst  see  my  poor  kinsman, 
Sir  Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe  1  They  say  he  fought  well 
at  Chains  ! " 

"  My  sweet  lord,"  again  interposed  Rowena, 
"  mention  him  not." 

"Why?  Because  thou  and  he  were  so  tender  in 
days  of  yore — when  you  could  not  bear  my  plain 
face,  being  all  in  love  with  his  pale  one  ?  " 

"  Those  times  are  past  now,  dear  Athelstane,"  said 
his  affectionate  wife,  looking  up  to  the  ceiling. 

"  Marry,  thou  never  couldst  forgive  him  the 
Jewess,  Rowena." 

"  The  odious  hussy  !  don't  mention  the  name  of 
the  unbelieving  creature,"  exclaimed  the  lady. 

'•  Well,  well,  poor  Will  was  a  good  lad — a 
thought  melancholy  and  milksop  though.  Why,  a 
pint  of  sack  fuddled  his  poor  brains." 

"  Sir  Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe  was  a  good  lance,"  said 
the  friar.  "  I  have  heard  there  was  none  better  in 
Christendom.  He  lay  in  our  convent  after  his 
11* 


250  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 

wounds,  and  it  was  there  we  tended  him  till  he  died. 
He  was  buried  in  our  north  cloister." 

'•  And  there's  an  end  of  him,"  said  Athelstane. 
"  But  come,  this  is  dismal  talk.  Where's  Wamba 
the  jester  ?  Let  us  have  a  song.  Stir  up,  "Wamba, 
and  don't  lie  like  a  dog  in  the  fire  !  Sing  us  a  song, 
thou  crack-brained  jester,  and  leave  off  whimpering 
for  by-gones.  Tush,  man !  There  be  many  good 
fellows  left  in  this  world." 

"  There  be  buzzards  in  eagles'  nests,"  Wamba 
said,  who  was  lying  stretched  before  the  fire  sharing 
the  hearth  with  the  Thane's  dogs.  "  There  be  dead 
men  alive  and  live  men  dead.  There  be  merry  songs 
and  dismal  songs.  Marry,  and  the  merriest  are  the 
saddest  sometimes.  I  will  leave  off  motley  and  wear 
black,  gossip  Athelstane.  I  will  turn  howler  at 
funerals,  and  then,  perhaps,  I  shall  be  merry.  Mot- 
ley is  fit  for  mutes,  and  black  for  fools.  Give  me 
some  drink,  gossip,  for  my  voice  is  as  cracked  as  my 
brain." 

"  Drink  and  sing,  thou  beast,  and  cease  prating," 
the  Thane  said. 

And  Wamba,  touching  his  rebeck  wildly,  sat  up 
in  the  chimney-side  and  curled  his  lean  shanks 
together  and  began  : — 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  251 


LOYE  AT  TWO  SCORE. 

Ho !  pretty  page,  with  dimpled  chin, 

That  never  has  known  the  barber's  shear, 

All  your  aim  is  woman  to  win. 

This  is  the  way  that  boys  begin. 
"Wait  till  you've  come  to  forty  year! 

Curly  gold  locks  cover  foolish  brains, 
Bilhng  and  cooing  is  all  your  cheer, 
Sighing  and  singing  of  midnight  strains 
Under  Bonnybells'  window-panes. 
Wait  till  you've  come  to  forty  year! 

Forty  times  over  let  Michaelmass  pass, 
Grizzling  hair  the  brain  doth  clear; 
Then  you  know  a  boy  is  an  ass, 
Then  you  know  the  worth  of  a  lass, 
Once  you  have  come  to  forty  year. 

Pledge  me  round,  I  bid  ye  declare, 

All  good  fellows  whose  beards  are  grey ; 
Did  not  the  fairest  of  the  fair 
Common  grow  and  wearisome,  ere 
Ever  a  month  was  past  away  ? 

The  reddest  lips  that  ever  have  kissed, 

The  brightest  eyes  that  ever  have  shone, 
May  pray  and  whisper  and  we  not  list, 
Or  look  away  and  never  be  missed. 
Ere  yet  ever  a  month  was  gone. 


252  REBECCA   AND    ROWENA. 

Gillian's  dead,  Heaven  rest  her  bier, 

How  I  loved  her  twenty  years'  syne! 
Marian's  married,  but  I  sit  here, 
Alive  and  merry  at  forty  year. 

Dipping  my  nose  in  the  Gascon  wine. 

"  Who  taught  thee  that  merry  lay,  "Wamba,  thou 
son  of  Witless  1  "  roared  Athelstane,  clattering  his 
cup  on  the  table  and  shouting  the  chorus. 

"  It  was  a  good  and  holy  hermit,  Sir,  the  pious 
clerk  of  Copmanhurst,  that  you  wot  of,  who  played 
many  a  prank  with  us  in  the  days  that  we  knew  King 
Richard.  Ah,  noble  Sir,  that  was  a  jovial  time  and 
a  good  priest." 

"  They  say  the  holy  priest  is  sure  of  the  next 
bishopric,  my  love,"  said  Rowena.  "  His  majesty 
hath  taken  him  into  much  favour.  My  lord  of  Hun- 
tingdon looked  very  well  at  the  last  ball,  though 
I  never  could  see  any  beauty  in  the  countess — a 
freckled,  blowsy  thing,  whom  they  used  used  to  call 
Maid  Marian ;  though,  for  the  matter  of  that,  what 
between  her  flirtations  with  Major  Littlejohn  and 
Captain  Scarlett,  really —  " 

"  Jealous   again,   haw !    haw !  "    laughed   Athel 
stane. 

"  I  am  above  jealousy,  and  scorn  it,"  Rowena 
answered,  drawing  herself  up  very  majestically. 

"  Well,  well,  Wamba's  was  a  good  song,"  Athel- 
stane said. 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  253 

"  Nay,  a  wicked  song,"  said  Rowena.  turning  up 
her  eyes  as  usual.  "  What !  rail  at  woman's  love  ? 
Prefer  a  filthy  wine-cup  to  a  true  wife?  Woman's 
love  is  eternal,  my  Athelstane.  He  who  questions  it 
would  be  a  blasphemer  were  he  not  a  fool.  The 
well-born  and  well-nurtured  gentlewoman  loves  once 
and  once  only." 

••  I  pray  you.  Madam,  pardon  me.  I — I  am  not 
well."  said  the  grey  friar,  rising  abruptly  from  his 
settle,  and  tottering  down  the  steps  of  the  dais. 
Wamba  sprung  after  him,  his  bells  jingling  as  he 
rose,  and  casting .  his  arms  round  the  apparently 
fainting  man,  he  led  him  away  into  the  court. 
"  There  be  dead  men  alive  and  live  men  dead." 
whispered  he.  '•  There  be  coffins  to  laugh  at  and 
marriages  to  cry  over.  Said  I  not  sooth,  holy 
friar?"  And  when  they  had  got  out  into  the  soli- 
tary court,  which  was  deserted  by  all  the  followers 
of  the  Thane,  who  were  mingling  in  the  drunken 
revelry  in  the  hall,  Wamba,  seeing  that  none  were 
by,  knelt  down,  and  kissing  the  friar's  garment, 
said,  "  I  knew  thee,  I  knew  thee,  my  lord  and  my 
liege  ! " 

"  Get  up,"  said  Wilfred  of  Ivanhoe,  scarcely  able 
to  articulate  ;  "  only  fools  are  faithful." 

And  he  passed  on  and  into  the  little  chapel 
where  his  father  lay  buried.     All  night  long  the  friar 


254  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 

spent  there,  and  Waniba  the  jester  lay  outside  watch- 
ing as  mute  as  the  saint  over  the  porch. 

When  the  morning  came,  Wamba  was  gone  ;  and 
the  knave  being  in  the  habit  of  wandering  hither  and 
thither,  as  he  chose,  little  notice  was  taken  of  his 
absence  by  a  master  and  mistress  who  had  not  much 
sense  of  humour.  As  for  Sir  Wilfrid,  a  gentleman 
of  his  delicacy  of  feelings  could  not  be  expected  to 
remain  in  a  house  where  things  so  naturally  disagree- 
able to  him  were  occurring,  and  he  quitted  Rother- 
wood  incontinently,  after  paying  a  dutiful  visit  to  the 
tomb  where  his  old  father,  Cedric,  was  buried,  and 
hastened  on  to  York,  at  which  city  he  made  himself 
known  to  the  family  attorney,  a  most  respectable 
man,  in  whose  hands  his  ready  money  was  deposited, 
and  took  up  a  sum  sufficient  to  fit  himself  out  with 
credit,  and  a  handsome  retinue,  as  became  a  knight 
of  consideration.  But  he  changed  his  name,  wore  a 
wig  and  spectacles,  and  disguised  himself  entirely,  so 
that  it  was  impossible  his  friends  or  the  public 
should  know  him,  and  thus  metamorphosed,  went 
about  whithersoever  his  fancy  led  him.  He  was 
present  at  a  public  ball  at  York,  which  the  Lord 
Mayor  gave,  danced  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  in  the 
very  same  set  with  .Rowena — (who  was  disgusted 
that  Maid  Marian  took  precedence  of  her) — he  saw 
little  Athelstane  overeat  himself  at  the  supper,  and 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  255 

pledged  his  big  father  in  a  cup  of  sack ;  he  met  the 
Reverend  Mr.  Tuck  at  a  missionary  meeting,  where 
he  seconded  a  resolution  proposed  by  that  eminent 
divine ; — in  fine,  he  saw  a  score  of  his  old  acquaint- 
ances, none  of  whom  recognised  in  him  the  warrior 
of  Palestine  and  Templestowe.  Having  a  large 
fortune  and  nothing  to  do,  he  went  about  this  coun- 
try performing  charities,  slaying  robbers,  rescuing 
the  distressed,  and  achieving  noble  feats  of  arms. 
Dragons  and  giants  existed  in  his  day  no  more,  or  be 
sure  he  would  have  had  a  fling  at  them  :  for  the  truth 
is.  Sir  Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe  was  somewhat  sick  of  the  life 
which  the  hermits  of  Chains  had  restored  to  him,  and 
felt  himself  so  friendless  and  solitary  that  he  would 
not  have  been  sorry  to  come  to  an  end  of  it.  Ah  ! 
my  dear  friends  and  intelligent  British  public,  are 
there  not  others  who  are  melancholy  under  a  mask 
of  gaiety,  and  who,  in  the  midst  of  crowds,  are 
lonely  ?  Liston  was  a  most  melancholy  man  ;  Glrim- 
aldi  had  feelings ;  and  there  are  others  I  wot  of — 
but  psha — let  us  have  the  next  chapter. 


256  REBECCA    AND    ROVVENA. 


CHAPTER  V. 

IVANHOE    TO    THE    RESCUE. 

The  rascally  manner  in  which  the  chicken-livered 
successor  of  Richard  of  the  Lion-heart  conducted  him- 
self to  all  parties,  to  his  relatives,  his  nobles,  and  his 
people,  is  a  matter  notorious,  and  set  forth  clearly  in 
the  Historic  Page :  hence,  although  nothing,  except 
perhaps  success,  can,  in  my  opinion,  excuse  disaffection 
to  the  Sovereign,  or  appearance  in  armed  rebellion 
against  him,  the  loyal  reader  will  make  allowance  for 
two  of  the  principal  personages  of  this  narrative,  who 
will  have  to  appear  in  the  present  Chapter,  in  the 
odious  character  of  rebels  to  their  lord  and  king.  It 
must  be  remembered,  in  partial  exculpation  of  the 
fault  of  Ivanhoe  and  Rowena  (a  fault  for  which  they 
were  bitterly  punished,  as  you  shall  presently  hear), 
that  the  Monarch  exasperated  his  subjects  in  a  variety 
of  ways, — that  before  he  murdered  his  royal  nephew, 
Prince  Arthur,  there  was  a  great  question  whether  he 
was  the  rightful  King  of  England  at  all, — that  his 
behaviour  as  an  uncle,  and  a  family  man,  were  likely 
to  wound  the  feelings  of  any  lady  and  mother, — final- 
ly, that  there  were  palliations  for  the  conduct  of  Row- 
ena and  Ivanhoe,  which  it  now  becomes  our  duty  to 
relate. 


REBECCA    AND    E.OWENA.  257 

"When  his  Majesty  destroyed  Prince  xirthur,  the 
Lady  Rowena.  who  was  one  of  the  ladies  of  honour 
to  the  Queen,  gave  up  her  place  at  Court  at  once,  and 
retired  to  her  castle  of  Rotherwood.  Expressions 
made  use  of  by  her,  and  derogatory  to  the  character 
of  the  Sovereign,  were  carried  to  the  Monarch's  ears, 
by  some  of  those  parasites,  doubtless,  by  whom  it  is 
the  curse  of  kings  to  be  attended  ;  and  John  swore, 
by  St.  Peter's  teeth,  that  he  would  be  revenged  upon 
the  haughty  Saxon  lady, — a  kind  of  oath,  which, 
though  he  did  not  trouble  himself  about  all  other  oaths, 
he  was  never  known  to  break.  It  was  not  for  some 
years  after  he  had  registered  this  vow.  that  he  was 
enabled  to  keep  it. 

Had  Ivanhoe  been  present  at  Rouen,  when  the 
King  meditated  his  horrid  designs  against  his  nephew, 
there  is  little  doubt  that  Sir  Wilfrid  would  have 
prevented  them,  and  rescued  the  boy  :  for  Ivanhoe 
was,  we  need  scarcely  say,  a  hero  of  romance  ;  and  it 
is  the  custom  and  duty  of  all  gentlemen  of  that  pro- 
fession to  be  present  on  all  occasions  of  historic  inter- 
est, to  be  engaged  in  all  conspiracies,  royal  interviews, 
and  remarkable  occurrences, — and  hence  Sir  Wilfrid 
would  certainly  have  rescued  the  young  Prince,  had 
he  been  any  where  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Rouen, 
where  the  foul  tragedy  occurred.  But  he  was  a 
couple  of  hundred  leagues  off  at  Chains  when  the 
circumstance  happened  :  tied  down  in  his  bed  as  crazy 


258  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 

as  a  Bedlamite,  and  raving  ceaselessly  in  the  Hebrew 
tongue,  which  he  had  caught  up  during  a  previous  ill- 
ness in  which  he  was  tended  by  a  maiden  of  that  na- 
tion, about  a  certain  Rebecca  Ben  Isaacs,  of  whom, 
being  a  married  man,  he  never  would  ha  /e  thought, 
had  he  been  in  his  sound  senses.  During  this  deliri- 
um, what  were  Politics  to  him,  or  he  to  Politics? 
King  John  or  King  Arthur  were  entirely  indifferent 
to  a  man  who  announced  to  his  nurse-tenders,  the 
good  hermits  of  Chains  before  mentioned,  that  he  was 
the  Marquis  of  Jericho,  and  about  to  marry  Rebecca 
the  Queen  of  Sheba.  In  a  word,  he  only  heard  of 
what  had  occurred,  when  he  reached  England,  and 
his  senses  were  restored  to  him.  Whether  was  he 
happier,  sound  of  brain,  and  entirely  miserable  (as 
any  man  would  be  who  found  so  admirable  a  wife  as 
Rowena  married  again),  or  perfectly  crazy,  the  hus- 
band of  the  beautiful  Rebecca  ?  I  don't  know  which 
he  liked  best. 

Howbeit  the  conduct  of  King  John  inspired  Sir 
Wilfrid  with  so  thorough  a  detestation  of  that  Sover- 
eign, that  he  never  could  be  brought  to  take  service 
under  him  :  to  get  himself  presented  at  St.  James's,  or 
in  anv  way  to  acknowledge,  but  by  stern  acquiescence, 
the  authority  of  the  sanguinary  successor  of  his  be- 
loved King  Richard.  It  was  Sir  Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe, 
I  need  scarcely  say,  who  got  the  Barons  of  England 
to  league  together  and  extort  from  the  King  that  fa- 


REBECCA    AND    PcOWENA.  259 

mous  instrument  and  palladium  of  our  liberties  at 
present  in  the  British  Museum,  Great  Russell  Street. 
Bloomsburj — the  Magna  Chae.ta.  His  name  does 
not  naturally  appear  in  the  list  of  Barons,  because  he 
was  only  a  knight,  and  a  knight  in  disguise  too :  nor 
does  Athelstane's  signature  figure  on  that  document. 
Athelstane,  in  the  first  place,  could  not  write  ;  nor 
did  he  care  a  penny-piece  about  politics,  so  long  as  he 
could  drink  his  wine  at  home  undisturbed,  and  have 
his  hunting  and  shooting  in  quiet. 

It  was  not  until  the  King  wanted  to  interfere  with 
the  sport  of  every  gentleman  in  England  (as  we  know 
by  reference  to  the  Historic  Page  that  this  odious 
monarch  did),  that  Athelstane  broke  out  into  open 
rebellion,  along  with  several  Yorkshire  squires  and 
noblemen.  It  is  recorded  of  the  King,  that  he  forbade 
every  man  to  hunt  his  own  deer  ;  and,  in  order  to 
secure  an  obedience  to  his  orders,  this  Herod  of  a 
monarch  wanted  to  secure  the  eldest  sons  of  all  the 
nobility  and  gentry,  as  hostages  for  the  good  behav- 
iour of  their  parents. 

Athelstane  was  anxious  about  his  game — Bowena 
was  anxious  about  her  son.  The  former  swore  that 
he  would  hunt  his  deer  in  spite  of  all  Norman  tyrants 
— the  latter  asked,  should  she  give  up  her  boy  to  the 
ruffian  who  had  murdered  his  own  nephew  ?  *     The 

*  See  Hume,  Giraldus  Cambrensis,  llie  Monk  of  Croyland, 
and  Pinnock's  Catechism. 


260  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 


speeches  of  both  were  brought  to  the  King  at  York ; 
and,  furious,  he  ordered  an  instant  attack  upon  Rother- 
wood,  and  that  the  lord  and  lady  of  that  castle  should 
be  brought  before  him  dead  or  alive. 

Ah,  where  was  AVilfrid  of  Ivanhoe,  the  uncon- 
querable champion,  to  defend  the  castle  against  the 
royal  party  1  A  few  thrusts  from  his  lance  would 
have  spitted  the  leading  warriors  of  the  King's  host : 
a  few  cuts  from  his  sword  would  have  put  John's 
forces  to  rout.  But  the  lance  and  sword  of  Ivanhoe 
were  idle  on  this  occasion.  "  No,  be  hanged  to  me  ! " 
said  the  knight,  bitterly,  "  this  is  a  quarrel  in  which 
I  can't  interfere.  Common  politeness  forbids.  Let 
yonder  ale-swilling  Athelstane  defend  his,  ha,  ha, 
wife :  and  my  lady  Rowena  guard  her,  ha,  ha,  ha,  50«." 
And  he  laughed  wildly  and  madly :  and  the  sarcastic 
way  in  which  he  choked  and  gurgled  out  the  words 
"  wife  "  and  '•  son  "  would  have  made  you  shudder  to 
hear. 

When  he  heard,  however,  that,  on  the  fourth  day 
of  the  siege,  Athelstane  had  been  slain  by  a  cannon 
ball  (and  this  time  for  good,  and  not  to  come  to  life 
again  as  he  had  done  before),  and  that  the  widow 
(if  so  the  innocent  bigamist  may  be  called)  was  con- 
ducting the  defence  of  Rotherwood  herself  with 
the  greatest  intrepidity,  showing  herself  upon  the 
walls,  with  her  little  son  (who  bellowed  like  a  bull, 
and  did  not  like  the  fighting  at  all),  pointing  the  guns 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  261 


and  encouraging  the  garrison  in  every  way — better 
feelings  returned  to  the  bosom  of  the  knight  of  Ivan- 
hoe,  and  summoning  his  men,  he  armed  himself  quick- 
ly, and  determined  to  go  forth  to  the  rescue. 

He  rode  without  stopping  for  two  days  and  two 
nights  in  the  direction  of  Rotherwood,  with  such 
swiftness  and  disregard  for  refreshment,  indeed,  that 
his  men  dropped  one  by  one  upon  the  road,  and  he 
arrived  alone  at  the  lodge  gate  of  the  park.  The  windows 
were  smashed  ;  the  door  stove  in ;  the  lodge,  a  neat 
little  Swiss  cottage,  with  a  garden,  where  the  pina- 
fores of  Mrs.  Gurth's  children  might  have  been  seen 
hanging  on  the  gooseberry  bushes  in  more  peaceful 
times,  was  now  a  ghastly  heap  of  smoking  ruins — 
cottage,  bushes,  pinafores,  children  lay  mangled  to- 
gether, destroyed  by  the  licentious  soldiery  of  an  in- 
furiate monarch  !  Far  be  it  from  me  to  excuse  the 
disobedience  of  Athelstane  and  Rowena  to  their 
Sovereign  ;  but  surely,  surely  this  cruelty  might  have 
been  spared. 

Gurth,  who  was  lodge-keeper,  was  lying  dread- 
fully wounded  and  expiring  at  the  flaming  and  vio- 
lated threshold  of  his  lately  picturesque  home.  A 
catapult  and  a  couple  of  mangonels  had  done  his 
business.  The  faithful  fellow,  recognizing  his  mas- 
ter, who  had  put  up  his  visor  and  forgotten  his  wig 
and  spectacles  in  the  agitation  of  the  moment,  ex- 
claimed, "  Sir  Wilfrid  !   my  dear  master — praised  be 


262  REBECCA  AND  ROWENA. 

St.  Waltheof — there  may  be  yet  time — my  beloved 
mistr — master  Atheist  ..."  He  sank  back,  and 
never  spoke  again. 

Ivanhoe  spurred  on  his  horse  Bavieca  madly  up 
the  chestnut  avenue.  The  castle  was  before  him  ; 
the  western  tower  was  in  flames  ;  the  besiegers  were 
pressing  at  the  southern  gate  ;  Athelstane's  banner, 
the  bull  rampant,  was  still  on  ftie  northern  bartizan. 
"  An  Ivanhoe,  an  Ivanhoe  ! "  he  bellowed  out.  with  a 
shout  that  overcame  all  the  din  of  battle — Notre 
Dame  a  la  rescousse — and  to  hurl  his  lance  through 
the  midriff  of  Reginald  de  Bracy,  who  was  command- 
ing the  assault,  who  fell  howling  with  anguish,  to 
wave  his  battle-axe  over  his  own  head,  and  cut  oflF 
those  of  thirteen  men-at-arms,  was  the  work  of  an  in- 
stant. "  An  Ivanhoe,  an  Ivanhoe  ! "  he  still  shouted, 
and  down  went  a  man  as  sure  as  he  said  'hoe.' 

.    "  Ivanhoe  !   Ivanhoe  ! "  a  shrill  voice  cried  from 
the  top  of  the  northern  bartizan.     Ivanhoe  knew  it. 

"  Rowena  !  my  love  !  I  come  ! "  he  roared  on  his 
part,  "  Villains  !  touch  but  a  hair  of  her  head,  and 
I » 

Here,  v/ith  a  sudden  plunge  and  a  squeal  of  ago- 
ny, Bavieca  sprang  forward  wildly,  and  fell  as  wildly 
on  her  back,  rolling  over  and  over  upon  the  knight. 
All  was  dark  before  him  ;  his  brain  reeled ;  it 
whizzed  :  something  came  crashing  down  on  his  fore- 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  263 


Lead.  St.  Waltheof,  and  all  the  saints  of  the  Saxon 
calendar  protect  the  knight  I  *  *  * 

When  he  came  to  himself,  Wamba  and  the  lieu- 
tenant of  his  lances  were  leaning  over  him  with  a  bot- 
tle of  the  hermit's  elixir.  "  We  arrived  here  the  day 
after  the  battle,"  said  the  fool :  "  marry,  I  have  a 
knack  of  that." 

"  Tour  worship  rode  so  deucedly  quick,  there  was 
no  keeping  up  with  your  worship,"  said  the  lieu- 
tenant. 

"  The  day — after — the  bat — "  groaned  Ivanhoe. 
— "  Where  is  the  Lady  Rowena  ? " 

"  The  castle  has  been  taken  and  sacked,"  the  lieu- 
tenant said. — and  pointed  to  what  once  loas  Rother- 
wood,  but  was  now  only  a  heap  of  smoking  ruins. — 
Not  a  tower  was  left,  not  a  roof,  not  a  floor,  not  a 
single  human  being  !  Everything  was  flame  and 
ruin,  smash  and  murther  ! 

Of  course  Ivanhoe  fell  back  fainting  again  among 
the  ninety-seven  men-at-arms  whom  he  had  slain  ; 
and  it  was  not  until  Wamba  had  applied  a  second, 
and  uncommonly  strong,  dose  of  elixir  that  he  came 
to  life  again.  The  good  knight  was,  however,  from 
long  practice,  so  accustomed  to  the  severest  wounds, 
that  he  bore  them  far  more  easily  than  common  folk, 
and  thus  was  enabled  to  reach  York  upon  a  litter, 
which  his  men  constructed  for  him.  with  tolerable 
ease. 


264  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 

Rumour  had  as  usual  advanced  him  ;  and  he 
heard  at  the  hotel  where  he  stopped,  what  had  been 
the  issue  of  the  affair  at  Rotherwood.  A  minute 
or  two  after  his  horse  was  stabbed,  and  Ivanhoe 
knocked  down,  the  western  bartizan  was  taken  by 
the  storming  party  which  invested  it,  and  every  soul 
slain,  except  Rowena  and  her  boy ;  who  were  tied 
upon  horses  and  carried  away,  under  a  secure  guard, 
to  one  of  the  King's  castles — nobody  knew  whither 
-;^and  Ivanhoe  was  recommended  by  the  hotel-keeper 
(whose  house  he  had  used  in  former  times)  to  reas- 
sume  his  wig  and  spectacles,  and  not  call  himself  by 
his  own  name  any  more,  lest  some  of  the  King's  peo- 
ple should  lay  hands  on  him.  However,  as  he  had 
killed  everybody  round  about  him,  there  was  but  lit- 
tle danger  of  his  discovery ;  and  the  Knight  of  the 
Spectacles,  as  he  was  called,  went  about  York  unmo- 
lested, and  at  liberty  to  attend  to  his  own  affairs. 

We  wish  to  be  brief  in  narrating  this  part  of  the 
gallant  hero's  existence  ;  for  his  life  was  one  of  feel- 
ing rather  than  affection,  and  the  description  of  mere 
sentiment  is  considered  by  many  well-informed  per- 
sons to  be  tedious.  What  were  his  sentiments,  now, 
it  may  be  asked,  under  the  peculiar  position  in  which 
he  found  himself  ?  He  had  done  his  duty  by  Rowe- 
na, certainly  ;  no  man  could  say  otherwise.  But  as 
for  being  in  love  with  her  any  more,  after  what  had 
occurred,  that  was  a  different  question.     Well,  come 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  265 

what  would,  he  was  determined  still  to  continue  do 
ing  his  duty  by  her  : — but  as  she  was  whisked  away, 
the  deuce  knew  whither,  how  could  he  do  anything  ? 
So  he  resigned  himself  to  the  fact  that  she  was  thus 
whisked  away. 

He,  of  course,  sent  emissaries  about  the  country 
to  endeavour  to  find  out  where  Rowena  was  ;  but 
these  came  back  without  any  sort  of  intelligence ; 
and  it  was  remarked,  that  he  still  remained  in  a  per- 
fect state  of  resignation.  He  remained  in  this  con- 
dition for  a  year,  or  more  ;  and  it  was  said  that  he 
was  becoming  more  cheerful,  and  he  certainly  was 
growing  rather  fat.  The  Knight  of  the  Spectacles 
was  voted  an  agreeable  man  in  a  grave  way ;  and 
gave  some  very  elegant,  though  quiet,  parties,  and 
was  received  in  the  best  society  of  York. 

It  was  just  at  assize-time,  the  lawyers  and  barris- 
ters had  arrived,  and  the  town  was  unusually  gay ; 
when,  one  morning,  the  attorney,  whom  we  have 
mentioned  as  Sir  Wilfrid's  man  of  business,  and  a 
most  respectable  man,  called  upon  his  gallant  client 
at  his  lodgings,  and  said  he  had  a  communication 
of  importance  to  make.  Having  to  communicate 
with  a  client  of  rank,  who  was  condemned  to  be 
hanged  for  forgery,  Sir  Hugo  de  Backbite,  the  attor- 
ney said,  he  had  been  to  visit  that  party  in  the  con- 
demned cell ;  and  on  the  way  through  the  yard,  and 
through  the  bars  of  another  cell,  had  seen  and  recog- 
12 


266  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 

nized  an  old  acquaintance  of  Sir  Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe 
— and  the  lawyer  held  him  out,  with  a  particular 
look,  a  note,  written  on  a  piece  of  whity-brown  paper. 
What  were  Ivanhoe'e  sensations  when  he  recog- 
nised the  handwriting  of  Rowena  ! — he  tremblingly 
dashed  open  the  billet,  and  read  as  follows  : — 

"  My  DEAREST  Ivanhoe  : — For  I  am  thine  now 
as  erst,  and  my  first  love  was  ever — ever  dear  to  me. 
Have  I  been  near  thee  dying  for  a  whole  year,  and 
didst  thou  make  no  effort  to  rescue  thy  Rowena  ? 
Have  ye  given  to  others — I  mention  not  their  name 
nor  their  odious  creed — the  heart  that  ought  to  be 
mine  ?  I  send  thee  my  forgiveness  from  my  dying 
pallet  of  straw. — I  forgive  thee  the  insults  I  have 
received,  the  cold  and  hunger  I  have  endured,  the 
failing  health  of  my  boy.  the  bitterness  of  my  prison, 
thy  infatuation  about  that  Jewess,  which  made  our 
married  life  miserable,  and  which  caused  thee,  I  am 
sure,  to  go  abroad  to  look  after  her. — I  forgive  thee 
all  my  wrongs,  and  fain  would  bid  thee  farewell. 
Mr.  Smith  hath  gained  over  my  gaoler — he  will  tell 
thee  how  I  may  see  thee. — Come  and  console  my 
last  hour  by  promising  that  thou  wilt  care  for  my 
boy — liis  boy  who  fell  like  a  hero  (when  thou  wert 
absent)  combating  by  the  side  of 

"  Rowena." 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA  267 


The  reader  may  consult  his  own  feelings,  and  say 
whether  Ivanhoe  was  likely  to  be  pleased  or  not  by 
this  letter  ;  however,  he  inquired  of  Mr.  Smith,  the 
solicitor,  what  was  the  plan  which  that  gentleman 
had  devised  for  the  introduction  to  Lady  Rowena, 
and  was  informed,  that  he  was  to  get  a  barrister's 
gown  and  wig,  when  the  gaoler  would  introduce  him 
into  the  interior  of  the  prison.  These  decorations, 
knowing  several  gentlemen  of  the  Northern  Circuit, 
Sir  Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe  easily  procured,  and,  with 
feelings  of  no  small  trepidation,  reached  the  cell 
where,  for  the  space  of  a  year,  poor  Rowena  had 
been  immured. 

If  any  person  have  a  doubt  of  the  correctness,  of 
the  historical  exactness,  of  this  narrative,  I  refer 
him  to  the  ''  Biographic  Universelle  "  (article  Jean 
sans  Terre),  which  says.  ''  La  femme  d'un  baron  au- 
quel  on  vint  demander  son  fils,  repondit,  '  Le  roi 
pense-t-il  que  je  confierai  mon  fils  a  un  homme  qui  a 
egorge  son  neveu  de  sa  propre  main  ?  '  Jean  fit  en- 
lever  la  mere  et  I'enfant,  et  la  laissa  mourir  de  faim 
dans  les  cachots." 

I  picture  to  myself,  with  a  painful  sympathy, 
Rowena  undergoing  this  disagreeable  sentence.  All 
her  virtues,  her  resolution,  her  chaste  energy  and 
perseverance,  shine  with  redoubled  lustre,  and,  for 
the  first  time  since  the  commencement  of  the  history, 
I  feel  that  I  am  partially  reconciled  to  her.     The 


268  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 


weary  year  passes — she  grows  weaker  and  more  lan- 
guid, thinner  and  thinner  !  At  length  Ivanhoe,  in 
the  disguise  of  a  barrister  of  the  Northern  Circuit,  is 
introduced  to  her  cell,  and  finds  his  lady  in  the  last 
stage  of  exhaustion,  on  the  straw  of  her  dungeon, 
with  her  little  boy  in  her  arms.  She  has  preserved 
his  life  at  the  expense  of  her  own,  giving  him  the 
whole  of  the  pittance  which  her  gaolers  allowed  her, 
and  perishing  herself  of  inanition. 

There  is  a  scene  !  I  feel  as  if  I  had  made  it  up, 
as  it  were,  with  this  lady,  and  that  we  part  in  peace, 
in  consequence  of  my  providing  her  with  so  sublime 
a  death-bed.  Fancy  Ivanhoe's  entrance — their  re- 
cognition— the  faint  blush  upon  her  worn  features — 
the  pathetic  way  in  which  she  gives  little  Cedric  in 
charge  to  him,  and  his  promises  of  protection. 

"  Wilfrid,  my  early  loved,"  slowly  gasped  she,  re- 
moving her  grey  hair  from  her  furrowed  temples,  and 
gazing  on  her  boy  fondly,  as  he  nestled  on  Ivanhoe's 
knee — "  Promise  me  by  St.  Waltheof  of  Temple- 
stowe  ;  promise  me  one  boon  ! '' 

"I  do,"  said  Ivanhoe,  clasping  the  boy,  and  think- 
ing it  was  to  that  little  innocent  the  promise  was  in- 
tended to  apply. 

"By  St.  Waltheof?" 
"  By  St.  Waltheof  !  " 
"  Promise   me,   then."   gasped   Rowena,   staring 


REBECCA    AND    ROWEXA.  269 


wildly    at    him,    ''  that    you    never    will    marry    a 
Jewess  ?  " 

'•  By  St.  Waltheof,"  cried  Ivanhoe.  ■'  this  is  too 
much  !  Rowena  ! "  But  he  felt  his  hand  grasped  for 
a  moment,  the  nerves  then  relaxed,  the  pale  lip  ceased 
to  Cjuiver — she  was  no  more  ! 


CHAPTER  YL 

IVAXHOE    THE    WIDOWER. 

Having  placed  young  Cedric  at  School  at  the 
Hall  of  Dotheboyes,  in  Yorkshire,  and  arranged  his 
family  affairs.  Sir  Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe  quitted  a  coun- 
try which  had  no  longer  any  charms  for  him,  and  in 
which  his  stay  was  rendered  the  less  agreeable  by  the 
notion  that  King  John  would  hang  him  if  ever  he 
could  lay  hands  on  the  faithful  follower  of  King  Ri- 
chard and  Prince  Arthur. 

But  there  was  always  in  those  days  a  home  and 
occupation  for  a  brave  and  pious  knight.  A  saddle 
on  a  gallant  war-horse,  a  pitched  field  against  the 
Moors,  a  lance  wherewith  to  spit  a  turbaned  infidel, 
or  a  road  to  Paradise  carved  out  by  his  scimetar, — 
these  were  the  height  of  the  ambition  of  good  and 
religious  warriors :  and  so  renowned  a  champion  as 
Sir  Y'^ilfrid  of  Ivanhoe   was  sure  to  be  well  i^  ecived 


270  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 


wherever  blows  were  stricken  for  the  cause  of  Chris= 
tendom.    Even  among  the  dark  Templars,  he  who  had 
twice  overcome  the  most  famous  lance  of  their  Order 
was  a  respected  though  not  a  welcome  guest  :  but 
among  the  opposition  company  of  the  Knights  of  St. 
John,  he  was  admired  and  courted  beyond  measure  ; 
^nd  always  affectioning  that  Order,  which  offered  him, 
indeed,  its  first  rank  and  commanderies,  he  did  much 
good  service,  fighting  in  their  ranks  for  the  glory  of 
Heaven  and  St.  Waltheof,  and  slaying  many   thou- 
sands  of  the  heathen  in  Prussia,  Poland,  and  those 
savage  northern   countries.      The  only  fault  that  the 
great  and   gallant,  though   severe   and  ascetic  Folko 
of  Heydenbraten,  the  chief  of  the  Order  of  St.  John, 
found  with   the  melancholy   warrior,  whose  lance  did 
such  good  service  to  the  cause,  was,  that  he  did  not 
persecute  the  Jews  as  so  religious  a  knight  should. 
He   let  off  sundry  captives  of  that  persuasion  whom 
he  had  taken  with  his  sword  and  his  spear,  saved 
others  from   torture,  and  actually  ransomed  the  two 
last  grinders   of  a  venerable  rabbi   (that   Roger  de 
Cartright,  an  English  knight  of  the  Order,  was  about 
to  extort  from  the  elderl}^  Israelite),  with  a  hundred 
crowns  and   a  gimmal  ring,  which  were  all  the  pro- 
perty he  possessed.     Whenever  he   so  ransomed  Or 
benefited  one  of  this  religion,  he  would  moreover  give 
them  a  little  token  or  a  message  (were  the  good  knight 
out  of  money),  saying,  '•  Take  this  token,  and  remem- 


REBECCA    AXD    ROWENA.  271 

ber  this  deed  was  done  by  Wilfrid  the  Disinherited, 
for  the  services  whilome  rendered  to  him  by  Rebecca, 
the  daughter  of  Isaac  of  York  !  "  So  among  them- 
selves, and  in  their  meetings  and  synagogues,  and  in 
their  restless  travels  from  land  to  land,  when  they  of 
Jewry  cursed  and  reviled  all  Christians,  as  such 
abominable  heathens  will,  they  nevertheless  excepted 
the  name  of  the  Desdichado,  or  the  doubly-disinherit- 
ed as  he  now  was,  the  Desdichado-Doblado. 

The  account  of  all  the  battles,  storms,  and  scala- 
does  in  which  Sir  Wilfrid  took  part,  would  only  weary 
the  reader,  for  the  chopping  off  one  heathen's  head 
with  an  axe  must  be  very  like  the  decapitation  of 
any  other  unbeliever.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  wher- 
ever this  kind  of  work  was  to  be  done,  and  Sir  Wil- 
frid was  in  the  way,  he  was  the  man  to  perform  it. 
It  would  astonish  you  were  you  to  see  the  account 
that  Wamba  kept  of  his  master's  achievements,  and 
of  the  Bulgarians,  Bohemians,  Croatians,  slain  or 
maimed  by  his  hand  ;  and  as,  in  those  days,  a  repu- 
tation for  valour  had  an  immense  effect  upon  the  soft 
hearts  of  women  ;  and  even  the  ugliest  man,  were  he 
a  stout  warrior,  was  looked  upon  with  favour  by 
Beauty  :  so  Ivanhoe.  who  was  by  no  means  ill-favour- 
ed, though  now  becoming  rather  elderly,  made  con- 
quests over  female  breasts,  as  well  as  over  Saracens, 
and  had  more  than  one  direct  offer  of  marriage  made 
to  him  by  princesses,  countesses,  and  noble  ladies 


272  REBECCA    AND    liOWENA. 

possessing  both  charms  and  money,  which  they  were 
anxious  to  place  at  the  disposal  of  a  champion  so  re- 
nowned. It  is  related  that  the  Duchess  Regent  of 
Kartoffelberg  offered  him  her  hand,  and  the  Ducal 
Crown  of  Kartoffelberg,  which  he  had  rescued  from 
the  unbelieving  Prussians ;  but  Ivanhoe  evaded  the 
Duchess's  offer,  by  riding  away  from  her  capital 
secretly  at  midnight,  and  hiding  himself  in  a  convent 
of  Knights  Hospitallers,  on  the  borders  of  Poland  ;  and 
it  is  a  fact  that  the  Princess  Rosalia  Seraphina  of 
Pumpernickel,  the  most  lovely  woman  of  her  time, 
became  so  frantically  attached  to  him,  that  she  fol- 
lowed him  on  a  campaign,  and  was  discovered  with 
his  baggage  disguised  as  a  horse-boy.  But  no  prin- 
cess, no  beauty,  no  female  blandishments  had  any 
charms  for  Ivanhoe :  no  hermit  practised  a  more 
austere  celibacy.  The  severity  of  his  morals  con- 
trasted so  remarkably  with  the  lax  and  dissolute 
manner  of  the  young  lords  and  nobles  in  the  courts 
which  he  frequented,  that  these  young  springalds 
would  sometimes  sneer  and  call  him  Monk  and  Milk- 
sop ;  but  his  courage  in  the  day  of  battle  was  so  ter- 
rible and  admirable,  that  I  promise  you  the  youthful 
libertines  did  not  sneer  then ;  and  the  most  reckless 
of  them  often  turned  pale  when  they  couched  their 
lances  to  follow  Ivanhoe.  Holy  Waltheof!  it  was 
an  awful  sight  to  see  him  with  his  pale,  calm  face, 
his  shield  upon  his  breast,  his  heavy  lance  before 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  273 

him,  charging  a  squadron  of  Heathen  Bohemians,  or 
a  regiment  of  Cossacks  !  Wherever  he  saw  the 
enemy,  Ivanhoe  assaulted  him  :  and  when  people  re- 
monstrated with  him,  and  said  if  he  attacked  such 
and  such  a  post,  breach,  castle,  or  army,  he  would  be 
slain,  "  And  suppose  I  be  ?  "  he  answered,  giving  them 
to  understand  that  he  would  as  lief  the  Battle  of 
Life  were  over  altogether. 

While  he  was  thus  making  war  against  the  nor- 
thern infidels,  news  was  carried  all  over  Christendom 
of  a  catastrophe  which  had  befallen  the  good  cause  in 
the  south  of  Europe,  where  the  Spanish  Christians 
had  met  with  such  a  defeat  and  massacre  at  the  hands 
of  the  Moors,  as  had  never  been  known  in  the  proud- 
est days  of  Saladin. 

Thursday,  the  9th  of  Shaban,  in  the  605th  year  of 
the  Hejira.  is  known  all  over  the  West  as  the  amunal- 
ark^  the  year  of  the  battle  of  Alarcos,  gained  over  the 
Christians  by  the  Moslems  of  Andalus,  on  which  fa- 
tal day  Christendom  suffered  a  defeat  so  signal,  that 
it  was  feared  the  Spanish  Peninsula  would  be  entire- 
ly wrested  away  from  the  dominion  of  the  Cross. 
On  that  day  the  Franks  lost  150,000  men  and  30.000 
prisoners.  A  man-slave  sold  among  the  unbelievers 
for  a  dirliem  ;  a  donkey,  for  the  same ;  a  sword,  half 
a  dirhem  ;  a  horse,  five  dirhems.  Hundreds  of  thou- 
sands of  these  various  sorts  of  booty  were  in  the  pos- 
session of  the  triumphant  followers  of  Yakoob-la- 
12* 


274  REBECCA    AND    SOWENA, 

Mansoor.  Curses  on  his  head  !  But  he  was  a  brave 
warrior,  and  the  Christians  before  him  seemed  to 
forget  that  they  were  the  descendants  of  the  brave 
Cid,  the  Kambitoor^  as  the  Moorish  hounds  (in  their 
jargon)  denominated  the  famous  Campeador. 

A  general  move  for  the  rescue  of  the  faithful  in 
Spain — a  crusade  against  the  Infidels  triumphing 
there,  was  preached  throughout  Europe  by  all  the 
most  eloquent  clergy  :  and  thousands  and  thousands 
of  valorous  knights  and  nobles,  accompanied  by  well- 
meaning  varlets  and  vassals  of  the  lower  sort,  trooped 
from  all  sides  to  the  rescue.  The  straits  of  Gibel-al- 
tariff,  at  which  spot  the  Moor,  passing  from  Barbary, 
first  planted  his  accursed  foot  on  the  Christian  soil, 
were  crowded  with  the  galleys  of  the  Templars  and 
the  Knights  of  St.  John,  who  flung  succours  into  the 
menaced  kingdoms  of  the  Peninsula  ;  the  inland  sea 
swarmed  with  their  ships  hasting  from  their  forts  and 
islands,  from  Rhodes  and  Byzantium,  from  Jaffa  and 
Askalon.  The  Pyrenean  peaks  beheld  the  pennons 
and  glittered  with  the  armour  of  the  knights  marching 
out  of  France  into  Spain  ;  and,  finally,  in  a  ship  that 
set  sail  direct  from  Bohemia,  where  Sir  Wilfrid  hap- 
pened to  be  quartered  at  the  time  when  the  news  of 
the  defeat  of  Alarcos  came  and  alarmed  all  good 
Christians,  Ivanhoe  landed  at  Barcelona,  and  proceed- 
ed to  slaughter  the  Moors  forthwith. 

He  brought  letters  of  introduction  from  his  friend 


E.EBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  275 


Folko  of  Heydenbraten.  the  Grand  Master   of  the 
Knights  of  Saint  John,  to  the  venerable  Baldomero 
de  Garbanzos,  Grand  Master  of  the  renowned  order 
of  Saint  Jago.     The  chief  of  Saint  Jago's  knights  paid 
the  greatest  respect  to  a  vrarrior.  -whose  fame  was  al- 
ready so  widely  known  in  Christendom:  and  Ivanhoe 
had  the  pleasure  of  being  appointed  to  all  the  posts  of 
danger  and  forlorn  hopes  that  could  be  devised  in  his 
honour.  He  would  be  called  up  twice  or  thrice  in  a  night 
to  fic^ht  the  Moors  :  he  led  ambushes,  scaled  breaches  : 
was  blown  up  by  mines  :  was  wounded  many  hundred 
times  (recovering,  thanks  to  the  elixir,  of  which  Wamba 
always  carried  a  supply) :  he  was  the  terror  of  the  Sara- 
cens, and  the  admiration  and  wonder  of  the  Christians. 
To  describe  his  deeds  would,  I  say.  be  tedious : 
one  day's  battle  was  like  that  of  another.     I  am  not 
writing  in  ten  volumes  like  Monsieur  Alexandre  Du- 
mas, or  even  in  three  like  other  great  authors.     We 
have   no    room    for   the   recounting  of  Sir  Wilfrids 
deeds  of  valour.     Whenever  he  took  a  Moorish  towTi 
it  was  remarked,  that  he  went  anxiously    into    the 
Jewish  quarter,  and  inquired  amongst  the  Hebrews, 
who  were  in  great  numbers   in    Spain,  for  Rebecca, 
the    daughter    of  Isaac.     Many    Jews,  according  to 
his  wont,  he  ransomed,    and  created  so  much  scandal 
by  this  proceeding,  and  by  the  manifest  favour  which 
he  showed  to  the  people  of  the  nation — that  the  Mas- 
ter of  Saint  Jaojo  remonstrated  with  him,  and  it  is 


276  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 

probable  he  would  have  been  cast  into  the  Inquisition 
and  roasted  ;  but  that  his  prodigious  valour  and  suc- 
cess against  the  Moors  counterbalanced  his  heretical 
partiality  for  the  children  of  Jacob. 

It  chanced  that  the  good  knight  was  present  at 
the  siege  of  Xixona  in  Andalusia,  entering  the  breach 
the  first,  according  to  his  wont,  and  slaying,  with  his 
own  hand,  the  Moorish  Lieutenant  of  the  town,  and 
several  hundred  more  of  its  unbelieving  defenders. 
He  had  very  nearly  done  for  the  Alfaqui,  or  gover- 
nor, a  veteran  warrior  with  a  crooked  scimetar  and  a 
beard  as  white  as  snow,  but  a  couple  of  hundred  of 
the  Alfaqui's  body-guard  flung  themselves  between 
Ivanhoe  and  their  chief,  and  the  old  fellow  escaped 
with  his  life,  leaving  a  handful  of  his  beard  in  the 
grasp  of  the  English  knight.  The  strictly  military 
business  being  done,  and  such  of  the  garrison  as  did 
not  escape  put,  as  by  right,  to  the  sword,  the  good 
knight.  Sir  Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe,  took  no  fui-ther  part 
in  the  proceedings  of  the  conquerors  of  that  ill-fated 
place.  A  scene  of  horrible  massacre  and  frightful 
reprisals  ensued,  and  the  Christian  warriors,  hot  with 
victory  and  flushed  with  slaughter,  were,  it  is  to  be 
feared,  as  savage  in  their  hour  of  triumph  as  ever 
their  heathen  enemies  had  been. 

Among  the  most  violent  and  least  scrupulous  was 
the  ferocious  knight  of  Saint  Jago,  Don  Beltran  de 
Cuchilla   y   Trabuco  y  Espada  y  Espelon ;    raging 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  277 

through  the  vanquished  city  like  a  demon,  he  slaugh- 
tered indiscriminately  all  those  infidels  of  both  sexes 
whose  wealth  did  not  tempt  him  to  a  ransom,  or  whose 
beauty  did  not  reserve  them  for  more  frightful  calam- 
ities than  death.  The  slaughter  over.  Don  Beltran 
took  up  his  quarters  in  the  Albaycen,  where  the  Al- 
faqui had  lived  who  had  so  narrowly  escaped  the 
sword  of  Ivanhoe  ;  but  the  wealth,  the  treasure,  the 
slaves,  and  the  family  of  the  fugitive  chieftain,  were 
left  in  possession  of  the  conqueror  of  Xixona. 
Among  the  treasures  Don  Beltran  recognised  with  a 
savage  joy  the  coat-armours  and  ornaments  of  many 
brave  and  unfortunate  companions-iu-arms  who  had 
fallen  in  the  fatal  battle  of  Alarcos.  The  sisht  of 
those  bloody  relics  added  fury  to  his  cruel  disposition, 
and  served  to  steel  a  heart  already  but  little  disposed 
to  sentiments  of  mercy. 

Three  days  after  the  sack  and  plunder  of  the 
place,  Don  Beltran  was  seated  in  the  hall-court  late- 
ly occupied  by  the  proud  Alfaqui,  lying  in  his  divan, 
dressed  in  his  rich  robes,  the  fountains  playing  in  the 
centre,  the  slaves  of  the  Moor  ministering  to  his  scar- 
red and  rugged  Christian  conqueror.  Some  fanned 
him  with  peacocks'  pinions,  some  danced  before  him, 
some  sang  Moors'  melodies  to  the  plaintive  notes  of  a 
guzla,  one — it  was  the  only  daughter  of  the  Moor's 
old  age,  the  young  Zutulbe,  a  rosebud  of  beauty — 
sat  weeping  in  a  corner  of  the  gilded  hall,  weeping 


278  TJT^T^ECCA    AND    ROWENA. 


for  her  slain  brethreD,  the  pride  of  Moslem  chivalry, 
whose  heads  were  blackening  in  the  blazing  sunshine 
on  the  portals  without,  and  for  her  father,  whose  home 
had  been  thus  made  desolate. 

He  and  his  guest,  the  English  knight  Sir  Wilfrid, 
were  playing  at  chess,  a  favourite  amusement  with 
the  chivalry  of  the  period,  when  a  messenger  was  an- 
nounced from  Valencia,  to  treat,  if  possible,  for  the 
ransom  of  the  remaining  part  of  the  Alfaqui's  family. 
A  grim  smile  lighted  up  Don  Beltran's  features  as 
he  bade  the  black  slave  admit  the  messenger.  He 
entered.  By  his  costume  it  Avas  at  once  seen  that 
the  bearer  of  the  flag  of  truce  was  a  Jew — these  peo- 
ple were  employed  continually  then  as  ambassadors 
between  the  two  races  at  war  in  Spain. 

"I  come,"  said  tlie  old  Jew  (in  a  voice  which  made 
Sir  Wilfrid  start),  "  from  my  lord  the  Alfaqui  to  my 
noble  senor,  the  invincible  Don  Beltran  de  Cuchilla, 
to  treat  for  the  ransom  of  the  Moor's  only  daughter, 
the  child  of  his  old  age  and  the  pearl  of  his  affec- 
tion." 

"  A  pearl  is  a  valuable  jewel,  Hebrew.  What 
does  the  Moorish  dog  bid  for  her  ?  "  asked  Don  Bel- 
tran, still  smiling  grimly. 

"The  Alfaqui  offers  100,000  dinars,  twenty-four 
horses  with  their  caparisons,  twenty-four  suits  of 
plate-armour,  and  diamonds  and  rubies  to  the  amount 
of  1,000,000  dinars." 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  279 

"Ho,  slaves!"  roared  Don  Beltran,  "'show  the 
Jew  my  treasury  of  gold.  How  many  hundred 
thousand  pieces  are  there  ? "  And  ten  enormous 
chests  were  produced  in  which  the  accountant  counted 
1.000  bags  of  1.000  dirhems  each,  and  displayed 
several  caskets  of  jewels  containing  such  a  treasure 
of  rubies,  smaragds,  diamonds,  and  jacinths,  as  made 
the  eye%  of  the  aged  ambassador  twinkle  with 
avarice. 

"  How  many  horses  are  there  in  my  stable  !■ " 
continued  Don  Beltran ;  and  Muley,  the  master  of 
the  horse,  numbered  three  hundred  fully  caparison- 
ed ;  and  there  was,  likewise,  armour  of  the  richest 
sort  for  as  many  cavaliers,  who  followed  the  banner 
of  this  dought}^  captain. 

"  I  want  neither  money  nor  armour,"  said  the 
ferocious  knight;  '-tell  this  to  the  Alfaqui,  Jew. 
And  I  will  keep  the  child,  his  daughter,  to  serve  the 
messes  for  my  dogs,  and  clean  the  platters  for  my 
scullions." 

"  Deprive  not  the  old  man  of  his  child,"  here  in- 
terposed the  knight  of  Ivanhoe ;  "  bethink  thee, 
brave  Don  Beltran,  she  is  but  an  infant  in  years." 

"  She  is  my  captive,  Sir  Knight,"  replied  the 
surly  Don  Beltran ;  "  I  will  do  with  my  own  as  be- 
comes me." 

"  Take    200.000    dirhems  ! "    cried     the     Jew ; 


280  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 


•'  more  ! — anything  !  The  Alfaqui  will  give  his  life 
for  his  child  !  " 

"  Come  hither,  Zutulbe  ! — come  hither,  thou 
Moorish  pearl  ! "  yelled  the  ferocious  warrior  ; 
'•  come  closer,  my  pretty  black-eyed  houri  of  heathen- 
esse !  Hast  heard  the  name  of  Beltran  de  Espada  y 
Trabuco?" 

"  There  were  three  brothers  of  that  name  at  Alar- 
cos,  and  my  brothers  slew  the  Christian  dogs  !  "  said 
the  proud  young  girl,  looking  boldly  at  Don  Beltran, 
who  foamed  with  rage. 

"  The  Moors  butchered  my  mother  and  her  little 
ones  at  midnight,  in  our  castle  of  Murcia,"  Beltran 
said. 

"  Thy  father  fled  like  a  craven,  as  thou  didst, 
Don  Beltran  !  "  cried  the  high-spirited  girl. 

'•  By  Saint  Jago,  this  is  too  much  !  "  screamed 
the  infuriated  nobleman ;  and  the  next  moment 
there  was  a  shriek,  and  the  maiden  fell  to  the  ground 
with  Don  Beltran's  dagger  in  her  side. 

''  Death  is  better  than  dishonour !  "  cried  the 
child,  rolling  on  the  blood-stained  marble  pavement. 
"  I — I  spit  upon  thee,  dog  of  a  Christian  !  "  and 
with  this,  and  with  a  savage  laugh,  she  fell  back  and 
died. 

"  Bear  back  this  news,  Jew,  to  the  Alfaqui," 
howled  the  Don,  spurning  the  beauteous  corpse  with 
his  foot.        "  T    would    not    have    ransomed    her   for 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  281 


all  the  gold  in  Barbary  !  "  And  shuddering,  the  old 
Jew  left  the  apartment,  which  Ivanhoe  quitted  like- 
wise. 

When  they  were  in  the  outer  court,  the  knight 
said  to  the  Jew.  "  Isaac  of  York,  dost  thou  not 
know  me  1  "  and  threw  back  his  hood,  and  looked  at 
the  old  man. 

The  old  Jew  stared  wildly,  rushed  forward,  as  if 
to  seize  his  hand,  then  started  back,  trembling 
convulsively,  and  clutching  his  withered  hands  over 
his  face,  said,  with  a  burst  of  grief.  ''  Sir  Wilfrid  of 
Ivanhoe  ! — no,  no  ! — I  do  not  know  thee  !  " 

"  Holy  mother  !  what  has  chanced  ?  "  said  Ivan- 
hoe, in  his  turn  becoming  ghastly  pale ;  "  where  is 
thy  daughter — where  is  Hebecca  ?  " 

"  Away  from  me ! "  said  the  old  Jew,  tottering, 
"  away  !  Rebecca  is — dead  !  " 

When  the  disinherited  knight  heard  that  fatal 
announceme'nt,  he  fell  to  the  ground  senseless,  and 
was  for  some  days  as  one  perfectly  distraught  with 
grief.  He  took  no  nourishment  and  uttered  no  word. 
For  weeks  he  did  not  relapse  out  of  his  moody  si- 
lence, and  when  he  came  partially  to  himself  again, 
it  was  to  bid  his  people  to  horse,  in  a  hollow  voice, 
and  to  make  a  foray  against  the  Moors.  Day  after 
day  he  issued  out  against  these  infidels,  and  did 
nought  but  slay  and  slay.     He  took  no   plunder  as 


282  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 

other  knights  did,  but  left  that  to  his  followers ;  he 
uttered  no  war-cry,  as  was  the  manner  of  chivalry, 
and  he  gave  no  quarter,  insomuch  that  the  "  silent 
knight"  became  the  dread  of  all  the  Paynims  of 
Granada  and  Andalusia,  and  more  fell  by  his  lance 
than  by  that  of  any  the  most  clamorous  captain  of 
the  troops  in  arms  against  them.  Thus  the  tide  of 
battle  turned,  and  the  Arab  historian  El  Makary  re- 
counts how,  at  the  great  battle  of  Al  Akab,  called 
by  the  Spaniards  Las  Navas,  the  Christians  retrieved 
their  defeat  at  Alarcos,  and  absolutely  killed  half  a 
million  of  Mahometans.  Fifty  thousand  of  these,  of 
course,  Don  Wilfrid  took  to  his  own  lance  ;  and  it 
was  remarked  that  the  melancholy  warrior  seemed 
somewhat  more  easy  in  spirits  after  that  famous  feat 
of  arms. 


-•♦•- 


CHAPTER    VII. 

THE    END    OF    THE    PERFORMANCE. 

In  a  short  time  the  redoubtable  knight,  Wilfrid  of 
Ivanhoe,  had  killed  off  so  many  of  the  Moors,  that 
though  those  unbelieving  miscreants  poured  con- 
tinual reinforcements  into  Spain  from  Barbary,  they 
could  make  no  head  against  the  Christian  forces,  and 
in  fact  came  into  battle  quite  discouraged  at  the  no- 


REBECCA    AND    ROWEXA.  283 


tion  of  meeting  the  dreadful  silent  knight.  It  was 
commonly  believed  amongst  them,  that  the  famous 
Malek  Ric  Richard  of  England,  the  conqueror  of 
Saladin,  had  come  to  life  again,  and  was  battling  in 
the  Spanish  hosts — that  this  his  second  life  was  a 
charmed  one,  and  his  body  inaccessible  to  blow  of 
scimetar  or  thrust  of  spear — that  after  battle  he  ate 
hearts  and  drank  the  blood  of  many  young  Moors 
for  his  supper ;  a  thousand  wild  legends  were  told  of 
Ivanhoe,  indeed,  so  that  the  Morisco  warriors  came 
half  vanquished  into  the  field,  and  fell  an  easy  prey 
to  the  Spaniards,  who  cut  away  among  them  with- 
out mercy.  And  although  none  of  the  Spanish  his- 
torians whom  I  have  consulted  make  mention  of  Sir 
Wilfrid  as  the  real  author  of  the  numerous  triumphs 
which  now  graced  the  arms  of  the  good  cause :  this 
is  not  in  the  least  to  be  wondered  at  in  a  nation  that 
has  always  been  notorious  for  bragging,  and  for  the 
non-payment  of  their  debts  of  gratitude  as  of  their 
other  obligations,  and  that  writes  histories  of  the 
Peninsular  war  with  the  Emperor  Xapoleon,  without 
making  the  slightest  mention  of  His  Grace  the  Duke 
of  Wellington,  or  of  the  part  taken  by  British 
VALOUR  in  that  transaction.  Well,  it  must  be  con- 
fessed on  the  other  hand  that  we  brao;  enough  of  our 
fathers'  feats  in  those  campaigns,  but  this  is  not  the 
subject  at  present  under  consideration. 

To  be  brief,  Ivanhoe  made  such  short  work  with 


284  PwEBECCA   AND    ROWENA. 

the  unbelievers,  that  the  Monarch  of  Aragon,  King 
Don  Jayme,  saw  himself  speedily  enabled  to  besiege 
the  city  of  Valencia,  the  last  stronghold  which  the 
Moors  had  in  his  dominions,  and  garrisoned  by  many 
thousands  of  those  infidels  under  the  command  of 
their  King  Aboo  Abdallah  Mahommed,  son  of  Yakoob 
Almansoor.  The  Arabian  historian  El  Makary,  gives 
a  full  account  of  the  military  precautions  taken  by 
Aboo  Abdallah  to  defend  his  city,  but  as  I  do  not 
wish  to  make  a  parade  of  my  learning,  or  to  write  a 
costume  novel,  I  shall  pretermit  any  description  of 
the  city  under  its  Moorish  governors. 

Besides  the  Turks  who  inhabited  it,  there  dwelt 
within  its  walls,  great  store  of  those  of  the  Hebrew 
nation,  who  were  always  protected  by  the  Moors,  du- 
ring their  unbelieving  reign  in  Spain  ;  and  who  were, 
as  we  very  well  know,  the  chief  physicians,  the  chief 
bankers,  tlie  chief  ^statesmen,  the  chief  artists  and 
musicians  ;  the  chief  everything  under  the  Moorish 
kings.  Thus  it  is  not  surprising,  that  the  Hebrews, 
having  their  money,  their  liberty,  their  teeth,  their 
lives,  secure  under  the  Mahometan  domination,  should 
infinitely  prefer  it  to  the  Christian  sway,  beneath 
which  they  were  liable  to  be  deprived  of  every  one 
of  these  benefits. 

Among  these  Hebrews  of  Valencia,  lived  a  very 
ancient  Israelite, — no  other  than  Isaac  of  York,  be- 
fore mentioned,  who  came  into  Spain  with  his  daugh- 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  285 

ter,  soon  after  Ivanhoe's  marriage,  in  the  third  volume 
of  the  first  j)art  of  this  history.  Isaac  was  respect- 
ed by  his  people,  for  the  money  which  he  possessed, 
and  his  daughter  for  her  admirable  good  qualities, 
her  beauty,  her  charities,  and  her  remarkable  medical 
skill 

The  young  Emir  Aboo  Abdallah,  was  so  struck 
by  her  charms,  that  though  she  was  considerably 
older  than  His  Iliglmess,  he  offered  to  marry  her, 
and  install  her  as  number  1  of  his  wives, — and  Isaac 
of  York  would  not  have  objected  to  the  union,  (for 
such  mixed  marriages  were  not  uncommon  between 
the  Hebrews  and  Moors  those  days.) — but  Rebecca 
firmly,  but  respectfully,  declined  the  proposals  of  the 
Prince,  saying,  that  it  was  impossible  she  should 
unite  herself  with  a  man  of  a  creed  different  to  her 
own. 

Although  Isaac  was,  probably,  not  over  well 
pleased  at  losing  this  chance  of  being  father-in-law 
to  a  Royal  Highness,  yet  as  he  passed  among  his  peo- 
ple for  a  very  strict  character,  and  there  were  in  his 
family  several  Rabbis  of  great  reputation  and  severi- 
ty of  conduct,  the  old  gentleman  was  silenced  by  this 
objection  of  Rebecca's,  and  the  young  lady  herself 
applauded  by  her  relatives  for  her  resolute  behaviour. 
She  took  their  congratulations  in  a  very  frigid  man- 
ner, and  said,  that  it  was  her  wish  not  to  marry  at 
all,  but  to  devote  herself  to  the  practice  of  medicine 


286  REBECCA    AND    P^OWENA. 

altogether,  and  to  helping  the  sick  and  needy  of  her 
people.  Indeed,  although  she  did  not  go  to  any  pub- 
lic meetings,  she  was  as  benevolent  a  creature  as  the 
world  ever  saw  :  the  poor  blessed  her,  wherever  they 
knew  her,  and  many  benefited  by  her  who  guessed 
not  whence  her  gentle  bounty  came.  * 

But  there  are  men  in  Jewry  who  admire  beauty, 
and  as  I  have  even  heard,  appreciate  money  too,  and 
Rebecca  had  such  a  quantity  of  both,  that  all  the 
most  desirable  bachelors  of  the  people  were  ready  to 
bid  for  her.  Ambassadors  came  from  all  quarters  to 
propose  for  her.  Her  own  uncle,  the  venerable  Ben 
Solomons,  with  a  beard  as  long  as  a  Chasmere  goat, 
and  a  reputation  for  learning  and  piety  which  still 
lives  in  his  nation,  quarrelled  with  his  son  Moses,  the 
red-haired  diamond  merchant  of  Trebizond,  and  his 
son  Simeon,  the  bald  bill-broker  of  Bagdad,  each 
putting  in  a  claim  for  their  cousin.  Ben  Minories 
came  from  London,  and  knelt  at  her  feet :  Ben  Joc- 
hanan  arrived  from  Paris,  and  thought  to  dazzle  her 
with  the  latest  waistcoats  from  the  Palais  Boyal : 
and  Ben  Jonah  brought  her  a  present  of  Dutch  her- 
rings, and  besought  her  to  come  back,  and  be  Mrs.  Ben 
Jonah  at  the  Hague. 

Rebecca   temporised    as   best    she    might.       She 

*  Though  I  am  writing  but  a  Christmas  farce,  I  hope  the 
kind-hearted  reader  will  excuse  me  for  saying  that  I  am  think- 
ing of  the  beautiful  life  and  death  of  Adelaide  the  Queen. 


REBECCA    AST)    ROWENA,  287 

thought  her  uncle  wa,s  too  old.      She  besought  dear 
Moses  and  dear  Simeon  not  to  quarrel  with  each  other, 
and  offend  their  father  by  pressing  their  suit.     Ben 
Minories,  from  London,  she  said  was  too  young,  and 
Jochanan  from  Paris,  she   pointed   out   to  Isaac  of 
York,  must  be  a   spendthrift,  or  he  would  not  wear 
those  absurd  waistcoats.     As  for  Ben  Jonah,  she  said 
she  could  not  bear  the  notion  of  tobacco  and  Dutch 
herrings — she  wished  to  stay  with  her  papa,  her  dear 
papa.     In  fine,  she   invented  a  thousand   excuses  for 
delay,  and   it  was  plain  that  marriage  was  odious  to 
her.     The  only  man  whom  she  received  with  anything 
like  favour,  was  young  Bevis  Marks,  of  London,  with 
whom  she  was  very  familiar.     But   Bevis  had  come 
to  her  with  a  certain  token  that  had  been  given  to 
him  by  an  English  knight  who  saved  him  from  a  fag- 
got to  which  the  ferocious  Hospitaller  Folko  of  Hey- 
denbraten  was  about  to  condemn  him.     It  was  but  a 
ring,  with  an  emerald  in  it,  that  Bevis  knew  to  be 
sham,  and  not  worth  a  groat.     Rebecca  knew  about 
the  value  of  jewels  too  ;  but,  ah  !  she  valued  this  one 
more  then  all  the  diamonds  in  Prester  John's  turban. 
She  kissed  it :   she  cried  over  it :   she  wore  it  in  her 
bosom  always  :  and  when  she  knelt  down  at  night  and 
morning,  she  held  it  between  her  folded  hands  on  her 
neck.   .    .   .      Voung  Bevis  Marks  went  away  finally 
no  better  off  than  the  others ;  the  rascal  sold  to  the 
king  of  France  a  handsome  ruby,  the  very  size  of  the 


288  REBECCA    AND    KOWENA. 


bit  of  glass  in  Kebecca's  ring  ;  but  he  always  said,  he 
would  rather  have  had  her,  than  ten  thousand  pounds, 
and  very  likely  he  would,  for  it  was  known  she  would 
at  once  have  a  plumb  to  her  fortune. 

These  delays,  however,  could  not  continue  for  ever 
and  at  a  great  family  meeting  held  at  Passover  time, 
Rebecca  was  solemnly  ordered  to  choose  a  husband 
out  of  the  gentlemen  there  present ;  her  aunts  point- 
ing out  the  great  kindness  which  had  been  shown  to 
her  by  her  father,  in  permitting  her  to  choose  for  her- 
self. One  aunt  was  of  the  Solomon  faction,  another 
aunt  took  Simeon's  side,  a  third  most  venerable  old 
lady,  the  head  of  the  family,  and  a  hundred  and  forty- 
four  years  of  age,  was  ready  to  pronounce  a  curse 
upon  her,  and  cast  her  out,  unkss  she  married  before 
the  month  was  over.  All  the  jewelled  heads  of  all 
the  old  ladies  in  Council ;  all  the  beards  of  all  the 
family  wagged  against  her — it  must  have  been  an 
awful  sight  to  witness. 

At  last,  then,  Rebecca  was  forced  to  speak. 
"  Kinsmen ! "  she  said,  turning  pale,  "  When  the 
Prince  Abou  Abdil  asked  me  in  marriage,  I  told 
you  I  would  not  wed  but  with  one  of  my  own  faith." 

"  She  has  turned  Turk,"  screamed  out  the  ladies. 
"  She  wants  to  be  a  Princess,  and  has  turned  Turk," 
roared  the  Rabbis. 

"  Well,  well,"  said  Isaac,  in  rather  an  appeased 
tone,  "  let  us  hear  what  the  poor  girl  has  got  to  say. 


REBECCA    AND    KOWEXA.  289 


Do  you  want  to  marry  his  Koyal  Highness,  Rebecca, 
say  the  word,  yes  or  no  ?  " 

Another  groan  burst  froru  the  Rabbis — they  cried. 
shrieked,  chattered,  gesticulated,  furious  to  lose  such 
a  prize,  as  were  the  women,  that  she  should  reign 
over  them,  a  second  Esther. 

"  Silence."  cried  out  Isaac,  "  let  the  girl  speak — 
speak  boldly.  Rebecca,  dear,  there's  a  good  girl." 

Rebecca  was  as  pale  as  a  stone.  She  folded  her 
arms  on  her  breast,  and  felt  the  ring  there.  She 
looked  round  all  the  assembly,  and  then  at  Isaac. 
"  Father,"  she  said,  in  a  thrilling  low  steady  voice, 
"  I  am  not  of  your  religion — I  am  not  of  the  Prince 
Boabdil's  religion — I — I  am  oi  his  religion." 

"  His,  whose  ?  in  the  name  of  Moses,  girl,"  cried 
Isaac. 

Rebecca  clasped  her  hands  on  her  beating  chest, 
and  looked  round  with  dauntless  eyes, — '•  Of  his," 
she  said,  "  who  saved  my  life  and  your  honour,  of  my 
dear,  dear  champion's. — I  never  can  be  his,  but  I  will 
be  no  other's.  Give  my  money  to  my  kinsmen  ;  it  is 
that  they  long  for.  Take  the  dross,  Simeon  and 
Solomon,  Jonah  and  Jochanan,  and  divide  it  among 
you,  and  leave  me.  I  will  never  be  yours,  I  tell  you, 
never.  Do  you  think,  after  knowing  him  and  hearing 
him  speak, — after  watching  him  wounded  on  his  pil- 
low, and  glorious  in  battle  (her  eyes  melted  and 
kindled  again  as  she  spoke  these  words),  I  can  mate 
13 


290  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 

with  such  as  you  ?  Gro.  Leave  me  to  myself.  I  am 
none  of  yours.  I  love  him,  I  love  him.  Fate  divides 
us — long,  long  miles  separate  us ;  and  I  know  we 
may  never  meet  again.  But  I  love  and  bless  him 
always.  Yes,  always.  My  jDrayers  are  his ;  my 
faith  is  his.  Yes,  my  faith  is  your  faith,  Wilfrid, 
Wilfrid  !  I  have  no  kindred  more, — I  am  a  Chris- 
tian."    ... 

At  this  last  word  there  was  such  a  row  in  the 
assembly,  as  my  feeble  pen  would  in  vain  endeavour 
to  depict.  Old  Isaac  staggered  back  in  a  fit,  and 
nobody  took  the  least  notice  of  him.  Groans,  curses, 
yells  of  men,  shrieks  of  women,  filled  the  room  with 
such  a  furious  jabbering,  as  might  have  appalled  any 
heart  less  stout  than  Rebecca's ;  but  that  brave 
woman  was  prepared  for  all,  expecting,  and  perhaps 
hoping,  that  death  would  be  her  instant  lot.  There 
was  but  one  creature  who  pitied  her,  and  that  was 
her  cousin  and  father's  clerk,  little  Ben  Davids,  who 
was  but  thirteen,  and  had  only  just  begun  to  carry  a 
bag,  and  whose  crying  and  boo-hooing,  as  she  finished 
speaking,  was  drowned  in  the  screams  and  maledic- 
tions of  the  elder  Israelites.  Ben  Davids  was  madly 
in  love  with  his  cousin  (as  boj^s  often  are  with  ladies 
of  twice  their  age),  and  he  had  presence  of  mind  sud- 
denly to  knock  over  the  large  brazen  lamp  on  the 
table,  which  illuminated  the  angry  conclave,  and 
whispering  to   Rebecca  to  go  up  to  her  own  room 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  291 

and  lock  herself  in,  or  they  would  kill  her  else,  he 
took  he$  hand  and  led  her  out. 

From  that  day  she  disappeared  from  among  her 
people.  The  poor  and  the  wretched  missed  her,  and 
asked  for  her  in  vain.  Had  any  violence  been  done 
to  her,  the  poorer  Jews  would  have  risen  and  put  all 
Isaac's  family  to  death  ;  and  besides,  her  old  flame, 
Prince  Boabdil,  would  have  also  been  exceedingly 
wrathful.  She  was  not  killed  then,  but,  so  to  speak, 
buried  alive,  and  locked  up  in  Isaac's  back  kitchen ; 
an  apartment  into  which  scarcely  any  light  entered, 
and  where  she  was  fed  upon  scanty  portions  of  the 
most  mouldy  bread  and  water.  Little  Ben  Davids 
was  the  only  person  who  visited  her,  and  her  sole 
consolation  was  to  talk  to  him  about  Ivanhoe,  and 
how  good  and  how  gentle  he  was,  how  brave  and 
how  true  ;  and  how  he  slew  the  tremendous  knight 
of  the  Templars,  and  how  he  married  a  lady  whom 
Kebecca  scarcely  thought  worthy  of  him,  but  with 
whom  she  prayed  he  might  be  happy;  and  of  what 
colour  his  eyes  were,  and  what  were  the  arms  on  his 
shield,  viz.,  a  tree  with  the  word  "  Desdichado  "  writ- 
ten underneath,  &c.,  &c.,  &c. ;  all  which  talk  would 
not  have  interested  little  Davids,  had  it  come  from 
any  body  else's  mouth,  but  to  which  he  never  tired 
of  listening  as  it  fell  from  her  sweet  lips. 

So,  in  fact,  when  old  Isaac  of  York  came  to  nego- 
tiate with  Don  Beltran  de   Cuchilla  for  the  ransom 


292  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 

of  the  Alfaqui's  daughter  of  XixoDa,  our  dearest  Re- 
becca was  no  more  dead  than  you  and  I ;  and  it  was 
in  his  rage  and  fury  against  Ivanhoe  that  Isaac  told 
that  Cavalier  the  falsehood  which  caused  the  knight 
so  much  pain  and  such  a  prodigious  deal  of  bloodshed 
to  the  Moors  ;  and  who  knows,  trivial  as  it  may 
seem,  whether  it  was  not  that  very  circumstance 
which  caused  the  destruction  in  Spain  of  the  Moor- 
ish power  ? 

Although  Isaac,  we  may  be  sure,  never  told  his 
daughter  that  Ivanhoe  had  cast  up  again,  yet  Master 
Ben  Davids  did,  who  heard  it  from  his  employer  ; 
and  he  saved  Rebecca's  life  by  communicating  the 
intelligence,  for  the  poor  thing  would  have  infallibly 
perished  but  for  this  good  news.  She  had  now  been 
in  prison  four  years  three  months  and  twenty-four 
days,  during  which  time  she  had  partaken  of  nothing 
but  bread  and  water  (except  such  occasional  tit-bits 
as  Davids  could  bring  her,  and  these  were  few  in- 
deed, for  old  Isaac  was  always  a  curmudgeon,  and 
seldom  had  more  than  a  pair  of  eggs  for  his  own  and 
Davids'  dinner) :  and  she  was  languishing  away  when 
the  news  came  suddenly  to  revive  her.  Then,  though 
in  the  darkness  you  could  not  see  her  cheeks,  they 
began  to  bloom  again ;  then  her  heart  began  to  beat 
and  her  bloo^  to  flow,  and  she  kissed  the  ring  on  her 
neck  a  thousand  times  a  day  at  least ;  and  her  con- 
stant  question   was,  ''  Ben   Davids  !    Ben   Davids  ! 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  293 


when  is  He  coming  to  besiege  Valencia  V "  She 
knew  he  would  come,  and,  indeed,  the  Christians 
were  encamjDed  before  the  town  ere  a  month  was 
over. 

*  *  *  #  # 

And  now  my  dear  boys  and  girls  I  think  I  per- 
ceive behind  that  dark  scene  of  the  hack-kitchen 
(which  is  just  a  simple  flat,  painted  stone-colour,  that 
shifts  in  a  minute),  bright  streaks  of  light  flashing 
out,  as  though  they  were  preparing  a  most  brilliant, 
gorgeous,  and  altogether  dazzling  illumination,  with 
effects  never  before  attempted  on  any  stage.  Yes, 
the  fairy  in  the  pretty  pink  tights  and  spangled  mus- 
lin, is  getting  into  the  brilliant  revolving  chariot  of 
the  realms  of  bliss. — Yes,  most  of  the  fiddlers  and 
trumpeters  have  gone  round  from  the  orchestra  to 
join  in  the  grand  triumphal  procession,  where  the 
whole  strength  of  the  company  is  already  assembled, 
arrayed  in  costumes  of  Moorish  and  Christian  chival- 
ry, to  celebrate  the  '•  Terrible  Escalade."  the  •■  Res- 
cue of  Virtuous  Innocence  " — the  "  Grand  Entry  of 
the  Christians  into  Valencia" — '-Appearance  of  the 
Fairy  DayStar,''  and  "unexampled  displays  of  pyro- 
technic festivity."  Do  you  not,  I  say,  perceive  that 
we  are  come  to  the  end  of  our  history :  and.  after 
a  quantity  of  rapid  and  terrific  fighting,  brilliant 
change  of  scenery,  and  songs,  appropriate  or  other- 
wise, are  bringing  our  hero   and   heroine   together  ? 


294  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 

Who  wants  a  long  scene  at  the  L^st  1  Mammas  are 
putting  the  girls'  cloaks  and  boas  on — Papas  have 
gone  out  to  look  for  the  carriage,  and  left  the  box- 
door  swinging  open,  and  letting  in  the  cold  air — if 
there  tvere  any  stage-conversation,  you  could  not  hear 
it.  for  the  scuffling  of  the  people  who  are  leaving  the 
pit.  See,  the  orange-women  are  preparing  to  retire. 
To-morrow  their  play-bills  will  be  as  so  much  waste- 
pa  iier — so  will  some  of  our  master-pieces,  woe  is  me 
— but  lo  !  here  we  come  to  the  Scene  at  last,  and 
Valencia  is  besieged  and  captured  by  the  Christians. 

Who  is  the  first  on  the  wall,  and  vrho  hurls  down 
tlie  green  standard  of  the  Prophet?  Who  chops  off 
the  head  of  the  Emir  Abou  Whatdyecallem  just  as 
the  latter  has  cut  over  the  cruel  Don  Beltran  de  Cu- 
chilla  y  &c.  ?  Who,  attracted  to  the  Jewish  tjuarter 
by  the  shrieks  of  the  inhabitants  wlio  are  being  slain 
by  the  Moorish  soldiery,  and  by  a  little  boy  by  tlie 
name  of  Ben  Davids,  who  recognises  the  knight  by 
his  shield,  finds  Isaac  of  York  egorge  on  a  threshold, 
and  clasphig  a  large  back-kitchen  key?  Who  but 
Ivanhoe — who  but  W^ilfrid  ?  "  An  Ivanhoe  to  tlie 
rescue."  he  bellows  out  :  he  has  heard  that  news 
from  little  Ben  Davids  that  makes  him  sing.  And 
who  is  it  that  comes  out  of  the  house — trembling — 
panting — with  her  arms  out — in  a  white  dress — with 
her  hair  down — who  is  it  but  dear   Rebecca  !      Look, 


REBECCA    AND    ROW  EN  A.  295 

tliey  rush  together,  and  master  Wamba  is  waving  an 
immense  banner  over  them,  and  knocks  down  a  cir- 
cumambient Jew  with  a  ham.  which  he  happens  to 
have  in  his  pocket.  ...  As  for  Rebecca,  now  her 
head  is  laid  upon  Ivanhoe's  heart :  I  shall  not  ask  to 
hear  what  she  is  whispering  ;  or  describe  further  that 
scene  of  meeting,  though  I  declare  I  am  quite  affect- 
ed when  I  think  of  it.  Indeed  I  have  thought  of  it 
any  time  these  five-and-twenty  years — ever  since,  as 
a  boy  at  school,  I  commenced  the  noble  study  of 
novels — ever  since  the  day  when,  lying  on  sunny 
slopes  of  half-holidays,  the  fair  chivalrous  figures  and 
beautiful  shapes  of  knights  and  ladies  were  visible  to 
jne — ever  since  I  grew  to  love  Rebecca,  that  sweetest 
creature  of  the  poet's  fancy,  and  longed  to  see  her 
righted. 

That  she  and  Ivanhoe  were  married  follows  of 
course  ;  for  Rowena's  promise  extorted  from  him  was, 
that  he  would  never  wed  a  Jewess,  and  a  better 
Christian  than  Rebecca  now  was  never  said  her 
Catechism.  Married  I  am  sure  they  were,  and 
adopted  little  Cedric  ;  but  I  don't  think  they  had 
any  other  children,  or  were  subsequently  very  bois- 
terously happy.  Of  some  sort  of  happiness  melan- 
choly is  a  characteristic,  and  I  think  these  were  a 
solemn  pair,  and  died  rather  early. 

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